#other parent's slow blink as they processed that statement: 10/10

[muffinlance]

Other child: *reaches for legos at the library’s play table*

Toddler: NO DO NOT DESTROY MY PANOPTICON

[ezrasarm]

Funeral Suit

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Angst (I know, unheard of in Marcus fics), 10 ply fluff

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Y’know how some stories just sort of fall into place without even having to think about it? This was one of those. It was inspired by the song “Funeral Suit” by Lisa Hannigan. There’s also another song that I’ve embedded in here because multimodality is a wonderful thing!

It wasn’t too late but it was late enough that you were a little confused when a soft knock sounded from your door. Getting up to look through the peep hole you were surprised by who you saw to say the least. “Marcus?” You mumbled still in slight disbelief when you opened the door. You hadn’t even processed that he was back in town. He stood there, gaze cast down on his shoes as he rocked back and forth on his heels nervously. He wore a jet black suit and it reminded you of something he’d told you ages ago. Black suits were reserved solely for weddings and funerals in his book. He thought they made him look too serious. He must have come straight here from the reception and the idea made your stomach churn with guilt. 

“Yeah,” he muttered before flitting his gaze up to your eyes and you noticed a slight blush had risen to his cheeks. “Sorry, this was a dumb idea. I should have given you a heads up first or something.” He said, a self deprecating chuckle escaping him as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. When you still hadn’t said anything he shook his head with a slight huff, taking a step back and motioning to turn away, maybe even leave. The thought of that made your heart lurch in your chest.

“Wait, Marcus.” You said, catching his wrist and the touch sent a spark of familiarity up your arm. God, you had missed him. “Come in.” You said, and as though muscle memory had completely taken over your actions, you were pulling him into a tight hug, one arm looped around the back of his neck pulling his head down to your shoulder while your other arm wrapped around his back. You swear you fit together like puzzle pieces. This is exactly what home felt like. 

“I saw your parents.” He hummed into your neck, not quite ready to pull away from your embrace.

“I just got off the phone with them. They said it was a beautiful reception.” You noted, only now pulling away so you could look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I couldn’t get out of this shift.” You explained, remorse set in the slight furrowing of your brow knowing that you had taken the shift quite purposefully. It was only now that he had even realized you were still in your work clothes and suddenly he felt like an idiot again. You must have been exhausted. He recalled the long phone calls he’d spend with you when you first started this job years ago. Long hours and emotionally draining shifts. He had so much admiration for you. He was about to make up an excuse to leave and let you get some rest but you beat him to it. “Hows your mum doing with all of this?” You asked, shutting the door behind him. You wanted him to stay? He thought, as he followed you into the kitchen where you poured both him and yourself a glass of whiskey before leaning back against the counter. The room was dim lit, illuminated only by the warm lamplight pouring in from the living room. “She’s a little shaken up but she’s doing okay.”He explained and you nodded in understanding. “He was the love of her life.” He added and you remembered watching the two of them as a kid and thinking how much you would like to grow up to have a love like theirs.  

“And you?” you asked. A long pause fell over the two of you as he contemplated the question. It was filled only by the soft crackle from the radio you had switched on the moment you got in the door to drown out the overwhelming silence of your empty apartment. 

“Leah and I got divorced.” He said through a clearing of his throat, arms folded over his chest as he leaned back against the island across from you. It wasn’t the answer you were expecting and judging by the look on his face after he said it, neither was he. You recalled his mum telling you that when you had gone over for dinner with your parents a couple years ago. You wondered why he wasn’t the one to tell you. You may not have heard from him for a while before hand but you always expected that he would be able to talk to you about things like that. Of course you’d seen him around since. Family events and what not. The two of you could never seem to avoid each other for too long even if you were trying. He was at your sister’s wedding the year before last but you had been so busy trying to keep everything on the rails and the stress away from her that you hardly got more than a side hug and a rushed “How are you?” “I’m good.” Out of him. You would be lying if you said it hadn’t stung a little.

“Yeah, I heard about that...” You replied. This time you were the one who was suddenly interested in studying the floor. 

“Then I got engaged again.” He said and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. That message clearly hadn’t made it through the grapevine. You had to gulp back the urge to blurt out “Again?” but he was already snuffing out his statement. “She uh… well that didn’t work out either.” He said with a shake of his head. You could tell the wounds were still fresh from the way he was wringing his hands out. 

“Jesus, Marcus.” You sigh, something between a compassionate and pitying smile taking over your face. It was a look he had grown to recognize on people’s faces ever since the failure of his first marriage. Now with his second relationship disaster and his dad dying it seemed to be the only way anyone ever looked at him anymore. “When are we gonna find you a girl who sticks around long enough to see how perfect you are?” You ask, knocking your foot lightly against his in a gesture he didn’t think you recognized the reassurance of. After all this time, after all the things that had happened it felt like you two were falling right back into the same dynamic you had always known from one another.

The song on the radio changed over to Roberta Flack’s version of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and Marcus huffed. A soft smirk rose on his lips. “You still listen to this station?” He asked, remembering quite clearly that time you told him that you liked how informative the hosts were and that the songs they played always reminded you of when he used to play jazz. You nodded, giving him a slightly curious look when he stepped a little closer to you, taking the drink from your hand and setting them both on the counter behind you. His hands found your own and his fingers intertwined with yours as he pulled you into the clearing in the kitchen, placing your hands on his shoulders and his own on your waist. 

“Remember prom?” You chuckled now at the familiarity of the situation as you fell into the same slightly awkward slow sway. 

“You mean that asshole who dumped you mid dance? No, not at all.” Marcus added sarcastically and you laughed. Marcus had come to your rescue when your own date had run off with the girl he had had a crush on. 

“Okay, it was actually kind of sweet. He only asked me because he thought he couldn’t get her.” You argued, knocking into his chest with a soft thud. 

“Yeah, that’s called being an asshole!” He exclaimed. This was most certainly not the first time you’d had this conversation. “You know I will never understand your unwavering ability to see the good in people.” He said with a slight shake of his head. “That guy didn’t know what he was missing.” He concluded and the sincerity in the look he gave you made you blink back the encroaching sting of tears. Needless to say Marcus’s own date (and later, wife), Leah, was less than enthralled when he excused himself to go and cheer you up. He got quite the earful afterwords.

“Hey, where’s James?” He asked now, head shooting up and his body going slightly ridged at the thought of how much trouble he’d gotten into. Jamie had been your boyfriend of five years. Marcus had never taken to calling him that though. You lived together before the two of you had broken up over what he referred to as “unsurmountable differences”.

“He’s not in the picture anymore.” You said simply and he chose not to press anymore than that. His arms tightening around your waist a little more as his chin came to rest on top of your head and your so called dancing turned into more of a prolonged swaying hug that neither of you quite had the guts to call out.

“What did you mean?” You whispered into his chest after a while, not fully intending for him to hear you. But when he pulled his head back and gave you a curious look you knew you had to explain yourself.

“Just before your wedding ceremony.” You clarified. That must have been the last time you spoke this openly with one another. After that you just drifted apart. Things- people got in the way. “I asked you if you were nervous and you said you were terrified but not for the reason I thought you were.” You prompted him. You knew he remembered. You could recall so clearly that look in his eyes like there was something he wanted to tell you before his brother burst in saying they needed him. That way he stuttered through his vows and the look he gave you when you went to give him a nod of encouragement seemed to be burned into your memory. It wasn’t entirely unlike the look he was giving you now, lips parted and eyes pleading as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“Everyone said I was too young.” He said. “Turns out they were right.” He chuckled bitterly, a twinge of regret being swept up from where he had locked it away long ago. “But I wasn’t scared of married life. I knew I wanted to settle down.” He explained. You knew this well about him already. He was all about that white picket fence and golden retriever running around the front lawn. “With Leah we were getting so serious it seemed like the obvious next step- God I was so stupid.” He interrupted himself and you squeezed his hand gently as you waited for him to recollect his thoughts. “I thought marriage was the answer. That it would make it go away-” 

When your brows furrowed in confusion Marcus paused, suddenly feeling he had revealed too much. He hoped you had missed it, that he could brush it under the rug like he hadn’t said it all but when you asked “Make what go away?” with a hint of concern dawned on your face, he sighed.

“You really don’t know do you?” He asked, the gentle sway the two of you had found suddenly falling short as he steadied your hips.

“Know what?” You asked, the oblivious look on your face completely irresistible to him as he slid his hands down your arms to lock in your own. 

“It should have been you standing at that alter with me.” He said and a look of utter confusion crossed your face.

“I was…” You said, eyes narrowing at him as you wondered how after all that fuss Leah had made he could forget that you were his best “man”.

“On the other side of me.” He corrected you. Your mouth fell into a disbelieving ‘O’ as it finally dawned on you what he had meant. With the look on your face Marcus was just getting ready to backpedal himself out of his abrupt confession when you reached a hand up to place on his face. Your fingers tangled in the hairs at the nape of his neck as you brushed your thumb over his cheekbone lightly, drawing out the anticipation as you brought your lips to his own in a teary eyed kiss you were pretty sure had been in the making since the two of you could talk. Everything about it felt so natural as he wrapped an arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your lower back, pulling you into him as though he couldn’t stand an inch of distance between you after the years you had wasted apart. You swore you were built to fit into his embrace as your lips danced over one another. When you finally pulled apart to breathe, his own eyes had gained a glossy film as he pressed his forehead against yours. You managed to catch a “You feel the same way?” through his breathlessness.

“Its always been you, Marcus.” You hummed back, your fingertips dragging up and down the back of his neck lightly and sending a welcomed shiver down his spine.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” He asked, the his thumb coming to brush the edge of your jawline gently.

“Because I was the girl who ran half naked through your sprinkler when I was three years old! I didn’t think you looked at me that way!” You exclaimed and he threw his head back with laughter.

“And I was the kid who threw up at your dining room table because I ate my dessert too fast. I don’t think I’m allowed to throw stones here.” He chuckled softly as his laughter died down and he brought his lips to meet yours again. A soft and delicate kiss before you pulled him back into a hug like the ones you had been sharing all your life.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” You murmured to him finally, knowing thats why he was here. Why he was standing in your kitchen at ten at night in his funeral suit, looking for something that felt like home.

“Me too.” He mumbled back. “He always said you were good for me... I think I know what he meant now.”

Masterlist

Taglist:

@ezraslittleblondestreak @agirllovespasta @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @chaotic-noceur​

[cakesunflower]

Reach For You [Dad!Calum AU] Ch. 18

A/N: so sorry for the......6 month wait omg. hope y’all missed Aspen, Calum, and Luna as much as i did. yeeeee happy reading!

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18

“IT’S LIKE PULLING teeth, trying to get them to talk,” Mali whispered, leaning towards Aspen as she spoke, eyes on the scene in front of her rather than on the wine glass she was cleaning with a dish towel. “It’s painful to watch.”

Aspen’s throat worked. She could only see Calum’s profile from where she was standing, his dark eyes set on the television as it played Home Alone. He sat on the single lounge chair, while his mom sat on the smaller couch opposite of him and his dad and Luna occupied the other couch opposite of the TV. The two of them seemed to be in their own world, Luna having gotten along with her grandpa exceedingly well, talking amongst themselves about the movie. Calum was pretending to pay attention to the movie, while Joy was pretending not to be staring over at him occasionally.

That’s how dinner had gone. It was awkward and seemed to drag on forever, but at least Aspen had Mali on her side, the two of them making up for Calum’s silence at the table. It wasn’t like he didn’t speak at all, dropped a sentence or two here and there, but he didn’t directly speak to his parents. Well, at least not to his mom, anyway. He was still upset with his dad by association, but the true object of his anger was Joy, and he wasn’t too subtle about it either.

Not even the pretty Christmas lights they’d decorated the apartment with could bring a sense of tranquility and joy. Not to this group, anyway.

Aspen would be exasperated by his lack of trying if all of this wasn’t her doing to begin with. She called his parents behind his back. She’s the one who invited them for Christmas dinner and ambushed Calum with it. Shit, what had she been thinking?

The sound of Luna’s giggles broke through Aspen’s thoughts, and she felt herself relax a little bit. At least she could count on her daughter to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know what to do,” Aspen responded to Mali quietly, gripping the bottle of wine. She was ready to down the whole thing by herself. With a disgruntled hand running through her hair, Aspen added, “This was a terrible idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mali disagreed, wiping the last glass. “You’re just trying to save Cal’s relationship with our parents, like any caring partner would want to do. It’s not your fault they’re being stubborn about this.”

Aspen wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, but—” She sighed, eyebrows drawing together in distress, looking towards the living room before her gaze met Mali’s again. In a quiet voice, she added, “I knew he wasn’t ready to move forward and I pushed him anyway. I didn’t—” Aspen paused, frowning as her gaze dropped to the counter, twisting her lips as the guilt started creeping through her veins. “I didn’t give him enough time to be angry—”

“He needs to let that anger out before it becomes too much,” Mali told her. “He needs to say his piece and try to move on. What’s done is done and no one can change the past, no matter how much we all want to, and the sooner Calum accepts it, the sooner he’ll feel that burden lift from his shoulders.”

Aspen took a breath, processing Mali’s words. She was still afraid of pushing Calum, not wanting to push him too far and have him be upset with her again—truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if they were okay from the last time they argued about the very situation. Ever since the arrival of his parents, he’s been in an off mood, which Aspen had expected, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed with his lack of trying after he said he would try. She knew she was at fault for springing all of this on him, knew that if he didn’t hold up his end of the promise then she couldn’t entirely blame him. Still, the dismay was present when all throughout dinner Calum didn’t really make conversation, didn’t engage if it wasn’t with her or his sister or Luna.

Before Aspen could say anything to Mali, Joy’s voice sounded from the living room. “I think it’s time we get going; it’s getting late.”

“No.” Aspen didn’t realize it was she who had protested Joy’s statement until all eyes were on her. Though, all Aspen could feel were Joy’s surprised ones and Calum’s irritated ones as he looked at her over his shoulder. Taking a breath, Aspen offered an encouraging smile. “We haven’t had dessert yet and I was just about to open the wine. Please stay, at least for a little bit.”

She figured, in that moment, she didn’t really want Calum’s parents to leave until at least there was some kind of step forward made. Was she pushing it? Maybe.

“We can’t force ’em if they wanna go, Aspen.” Her eyes met Calum’s dark ones, noted the silent way he told her to just let it go. To let them leave. There was a hint of edge present in the undertones of his casual voice, and Aspen fought from rolling her eyes because she knew he could’ve pretended harder if he wanted to.

“Noooo, I want Grandma and Grandpa to stay!” Luna whined, sitting up on the couch with a frown and pout on her face. Looking at Joy with a puppy dog look the five year old had terrifyingly mastered already, Luna begged, “Please stay! There’s cake and cookies.” Looking at David, she added, “Home Alone isn’t done yet.”

“Lunes,” Calum started, tone genuinely becoming soft as he addressed his daughter. “It might start snowing soon and they can’t be on the road when it does.”

Mali and Aspen both exchanged flat expressions at the lie. It wasn’t going to snow, Aspen knew for a fact, and Calum lying to Luna about it just so she’d possibly drop the subject was ridiculous. So with a lick of her lips and trying to keep her tone even, Aspen said, “Hey, Cal, can I talk to you for a second?”

His gaze met hers once again, the tension in the room returning as she nodded towards the hallway. She noted the way his throat worked in annoyance before pushing himself to his feet, and Aspen shot everyone else a quick reassuring grin as she walked out of the kitchen. They went to Calum’s bedroom and Aspen felt his presence behind her looming as they reached the room, and she shut the door behind her before turning to face him.

Together, both of them demanded simultaneously, “What the hell are you doing?”

Calum exhaled forcefully as Aspen’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? I’m trying to salvage your relationship with your parents.”

He shook his head, jaw tight before retorting, “That’s not your concern, Aspen.”

“We’re partners, Calum, so yeah, it is.”

She saw the anger flash across his face, accompanied by a sense of hurt she hadn’t expected as Calum returned, the edge back in his voice, “If we’re partners then you should be on my fuckin’ side!”

Aspen blinked on an expression of incredulity, lips parting as she inhaled a surprised breath at Calum’s accusation. There was a brief numb silence in the space of the room before Aspen’s brain caught up with her. “I am on your side, Calum,” she exclaimed, fighting to keep her voice low enough so it didn’t travel to the living room where everyone else was. But it was hard to keep her voice from raising with the surprise Calum’s accusation brought. For him to think she wasn’t with him was upsetting and insulting. “I just—I want you to say what you need to say to them and try to move past this.”

Calum gave a shake of his head, slow and defeated. “There’s nothing left to say, Aspen,” he said, voice lower yet still carrying that same level of intensity. He licked his lips as his dark eyes flickered past her and towards the door, thinking of who was currently in his living room, and he expelled a breath. Looking back at Aspen, he continued, “I’ve already said how pissed and upset I am. I’ve told her how she’s fucked up and she’s apologized and I don’t know where we go from here.”

Her heart bled for Calum and the pain he still so obviously was in, attempting to hide it behind anger and stubbornness. But she knew Calum, and as much as it hurt to see him hurt, to see how difficult it was for him to have his parents here, Aspen knew for a fact that he wouldn’t truly feel better until all of this was done with. Calum had always been so close with his parents, was a family oriented man that could be seen in his relationship with Luna, and to see his relationship with his parents crumbled into dust was heartbreaking.

Forgiving Joy wasn’t something Aspen ever thought she was capable of. For the longest time, she hated the woman for everything that happened. But holding onto those kind of strong, negative emotions wasn’t doing her any good. It was only weighing Aspen down, sometimes suffocating her, and it wasn’t until things with Calum had been mended and she finally decided to forgive his mom that Aspen could feel completely okay again. And it was no secret her accident played a big part in Aspen wanting things for Calum to be alright, too. Life was too short to remain under a dark cloud of anger.

“You move forward, bub,” Aspen told him, her own tone growing soft as she took a step towards him, green eyes never leaving his brown. “We can’t change what happened, but we can change how we go from here. I know how much it hurts you to not have your parents, your mom, in your life like you used to. I—”

“I have you and Luna,” Calum cut in, eyebrows drawing together in a subtle frown.

Aspen pressed her lips together into a kind, genuine smile. “You do,” she agreed with a nod. Calum’s throat worked as Aspen looked at him, and she felt herself take a breath. Her shoulders sank in acceptance, her hand finding his. A warmth spread through Aspen as he looked down at their joined hands, maneuvering his fingers to interlock with hers, the sensation of his cool rings one she never tired of. “And if you genuinely feel. . . Complete. . . with us—which is totally and utterly fine—then I will go back into the living room and tell your parents goodnight.”

Calum blinked a couple of times at her words, taking a breath as he lifted his chin, eyes never leaving Aspen’s. She didn’t look away, either, wanting him to know that she genuinely meant it. Sure, Aspen wanted Calum to make amends with his parents, and maybe it was a little too late to realize, but she shouldn’t have pushed him on the matter. She understood why he’d been so pissed off when she told him she’d invited his parents, understood that she’d crossed a line. If Calum genuinely did not want to engage with his parents, if he was content with not restoring a relationship, then Aspen would support him. She couldn’t force him more than she already had, not if she wanted to fuck up their relationship.

Supporting Calum was all that mattered.

“You would?”

Aspen’s smile softened, squeezing his hand, taking yet another step towards him. Her heart thudded within her chest at the look he gave her, uncharacteristically shy and looking so small, and it only reminded Aspen of how difficult this was for him. She nodded. “If that’s what you want, then yeah.”

He was silent as he considered her words, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as he chewed at it thoughtfully. She let him have his time, let him carefully think about what he wanted their next move to be. It concerned all of them, but this was Calum’s decision to ultimately make. Aspen felt badly about taking the choice away from him in the first place, and the least she could do was be by his side and support whatever he chose.

She watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, her eyebrows drawing together worriedly as he squeezed his eyes shut, head lowered as he shook it. Through gritted teeth, Calum confessed, “I want to move on but I just. . . I don’t know how.”

Aspen’s free hand lifted to cup his cheek, lifting his head to connect their gazes once again after he opened his eyes. She offered him a sweet smile. “We can figure it out together.”

They entered the living room, the credits for the movie on TV now rolling, everyone’s eyes on Calum and Aspen as they walked back in. Expectant expressions were painted across all of their faces, and Aspen took a breath before smiling at her daughter. “Hey, Lunes, why don’t you go show Aunt Mali all the presents you got, huh?”

The five year old grinned, jumping off from the couch with Duke hot on her heels as she ran over to where Mali stood, grabbing her aunt’s hand as she tugged. “Come on, Aunt Mali!”

The blonde grinned happily, letting her niece pull her along as her dark eyes met Calum and Aspen’s briefly. She understood the need to get Luna out of the room, happy to comply as she silently agreed to keep the little girl occupied.

An anticipating silence fell upon the room as Luna’s giggles soon silenced behind the closed door of her bedroom. Joy and David watched them patiently, and Aspen glanced at Calum in time to watch him take a breath before gesturing to the couches. “We should, uh, sit down, I guess.”

His parents shuffled around the coffee table, settling on the smaller couch against the wall as Aspen followed Calum to the one diagonal of them. It was silent in the room save for the ever so subtle thick clinking of the chains Calum wore, disappearing under the neckline of his full sleeved dark red sweater. He ran his fingers through his curls, ruffling the shaggy dark locks before he interlaced his fingers together. Calum bowed his head, lips parting as he ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip, running the words through his head before he finally spoke.

“I’ve told you how I feel. . . And I know how sorry you are.” His words were slow, careful, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he uttered them. Aspen watched him, knowing he was thinking while he spoke, making sure whatever was running through his mind, whatever he was feeling in his heart, was properly articulated. “I just don’t know where we go from here—how we find. . . A sense of normalcy in all this.”

“We find it slowly, son,” David spoke up, his voice a wave of smooth calmness as he looked at Calum. He glanced at Joy before looking back at his son, adding, “This won’t be an overnight thing, we understand that. Still, we would. . .” David let out a soft sigh, his hand finding Joy’s before nodding at Calum. “We would like to try and earn back your trust.” His eyes met Aspen’s. “Both of yours.”

“That’s—” Calum breathed out with a shake of his head, wringing his fingers together as he let out a forced chuckle. Aspen pressed her teeth together as she watched him, wanting to jump in with something. Anything. But Calum needed to do this. So she resorted to resting a hand on his knee, a comforting act of encouragement. “That’s not goin’ to be easy.” Calum looked up, looked at his parents, expression a mixture of the conflict he was fighting and tiredness from it all. “You gave me everything I could’ve asked for, but took away the family I never knew I had.” Twisting his lips, Calum added, “Trust and forgiveness, that’s gonna take some time.”

Joy nodded, looking desperate for some kind of relief, some kind of step forward they all were in search for. “There’s no rush,” she assured with a somewhat nervous smile. She looked between both Calum and Aspen, and even though this was about her boyfriend getting back on the right path with his parents, Aspen was appreciative of Joy and David making her feel included in this. Her and Calum were partners; she was glad his parents saw it, too. “Take all of the time you need. Whatever you think is best for your family, it’s how we’ll deal with this, okay?”

Aspen watched as Calum rolled his lips into his mouth, considering their words. She knew that Calum, just like her, was taking note of how Joy and David were giving them the power, a vast difference from the part they’d played in when it came to the situation that led to all of this in the first place. They were in total control over what was to happen, how they were going to move from here, and the importance of that wasn’t lost on Aspen or Calum. They had basically been kids when they’d unknowingly gotten into this mess with his parents; now they were adults, with a daughter to think about and a family they had no intention of ever losing. They were finally in control, just like they should’ve been since the beginning.

Calum nodded, biting the inside of his lower lip as he sat up, shoulders straight. He sniffed, rubbing under his nose with a finger as he looked at his parents once more. Then his gaze shifted over to Aspen, his expression softening once his brown eyes met her encouraging green. A small smile tilted at his lips, hand coming to rest on top of hers that was on his knee. He took a breath, decided and sure. “Baby steps.”

She nodded along, mirroring his smile, turning her hand under his to properly hold his hand. “Yeah,” she agreed, returning the meaningful look he cast her way before shifting her gaze to his parents. “I’m sure we’ll figure this out.”

For the next hour or so, they brought Luna and Mali back out before they divulged into the wine and desserts Aspen had promised. The shift in the air was noticeable, the tension from before having dissipated significantly. Aspen sipped her wine, watching Calum finally be at ease for the first time since his parents’ arrival, Luna sitting on his lap as he held a plate with a slice of chocolate cake, feeding both himself and her. Mali had decided on playing some music, finding a Christmas playlist on Spotify, to keep the light mood in the air. Aspen figured she was maybe worried that lack of it would bring back the tension from before. Aspen found the gesture cute—and probably needed.

Joy and David didn’t leave until everything was cleared out, both Joy and Mali insisting on helping out in the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes and put the leftovers in the fridge. When it was time for Calum’s parents and sister to head out to their hotel, they all gathered by the door, Luna insisting on hugging her grandparents and aunt goodbye. As Mali pulled Aspen in for a hug, she rubbed her back before whispering, “Good job.”

Aspen let out a quiet, breathless chuckle at that, Mali grinning as they pulled away, the two of them sharing a pointed look. And then Joy stepped up in front of Aspen, bringing her a step away from everyone else, and Aspen still felt a prickle of surprise when Joy took her hand in hers and squeezed. “Thank you,” the older woman whispered, the sincerity crystal clear in her eyes. “It means a lot that you invited us. And it shows just how much you care about Calum.” A sadness swept over Joy’s face as she gave a regretful shake of her head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it before.”

Throat working, Aspen felt her heart stop for a brief moment at Joy’s apology, taking a breath. The sense of relief was only growing at this point. “I know you are,” Aspen nodded, offering a kind smile. “Thank you for coming.”

Luna ended up in her arms after hugging her grandfather goodbye, and Aspen rubbed at the little girl’s back as Luna rested her head in the crook of her neck, tired after the day’s festivities. She gently swayed her, the movement subtle yet still soothing Luna, as she watched Calum bid his mom goodnight.

“Our flight isn’t until seven tomorrow night,” Joy was saying to Calum. Aspen watched them, trying and failing not to do so, noting how small Calum’s mother looked in front of him. Not just because of their physical height difference; she took in the way Joy, a woman she’d always known to be assertive and bold in her own right, seemed to fold into herself. She hugged herself, as if she was protecting herself from any oncoming rejection, totally uncharacteristic and Aspen understood why as Joy added, “Would it be alright to see you before we go?”

She spoke with trepidation, not wanting to push her luck after only just beginning the process of making amends. Aspen watched on as Calum looked at his mother for what seemed like minutes that stretched on forever, until he finally answered with a single nod, “Yeah.”

Joy smiled in return, shoulders sinking in relief, as the goodbyes and goodnights came to a close, Calum’s parents and sister leaving with smiles and waves as they closed the door behind them. Calum let out a sigh as he locked it, the night coming to an end, turning around just in time for Aspen to whisper, “Hey, you wanna put her to bed? I’m gonna clean up the living room.”

Calum nodded, gaze shifting to a near slumbering Luna, as he stepped forward and reached for his daughter. Luna easily shifted from her mother to her father, arms lazily going around Calum’s neck as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He felt and heard her take a breath before snuggling closer to him, and it easily brought a gentle smile to his face as he walked down the apartment and towards her bedroom.

He settled her down on the bed, switching on the bedside lamp that provided for a dull glow as opposed to the harsh brightness of the ceiling light. Calum brushed some dark curls out of Luna’s face as she sleepily smacked her lips together, and he suppressed a fond chuckle as he made his way over to the dresser to get her pajamas out. He sat down on the edge of the bed, murmuring quiet encouragements to the little girl who was seconds away from completely falling asleep as he changed her into her pajamas.

But just as Calum laid her upper half back down after putting on her shirt, thinking she was already mostly asleep, Luna spoke up. “I had fun today.” She spoke in a slow, tired drawl, a bit of a wistful hum in her voice as Calum settled her blankets over her.

He sat right next to her on the edge of the bed, hands on either side of her as he looked down to see her dark eyes blinking open. Calum smiled at the sight of her; for her to be this tired, he knew she did have fun. Despite his own issues, Calum had seen, much at the expense of his tightening jaw, that Luna had been enjoying her time with Mali and their parents. Calum hadn’t made for a much pleasant host to his parents, but Luna made up for it with a newfound excitement towards them. A childlike thrill that had, for the most part, put everyone at ease. “Yeah?” Calum mused, smiling down at her teasingly. “You liked all your presents?” They may or may not have spoiled her—Calum more so than anyone else; his first Christmas with his daughter had proven to be his favorite despite the initially unwanted presence of his parents.

“Mhm,” Luna responded, pulling the blanket up to her chin as her brown eyes met Calum’s. “I like Grandma and Grandpa, too.”

Something tightened in Calum’s chest at that, not entirely sure if it was a good or bad feeling as he heard Luna’s words. He’d been struggling with his emotions ever since his parents had arrived, knowing he hadn’t done a good job in keeping his promise to Aspen in trying to be civil. To actually try. But it hadn’t been too bad towards the end. They had made some progress, as much as they could tonight, and Calum had even agreed to see them again tomorrow before they left. That was more than he’d expected to do. And even though he’d been upset with Aspen over inviting his parents without even telling him, Calum knew his anger had dissipated at this point. Not entirely gone, of course, but slowly crumbling away. Slowly.

Calum took a breath before smiling, finger brushing away a stray curl from her face, brushing along her cute, soft little cheek. “They like you, too,” he told her truthfully. Because they did. He could tell. He wouldn’t agree to seeing them tomorrow if they didn’t. “Come on, bug, get some sleep.”

Luna hummed, giggling ever so softly as Calum leaned down and gave her a sweet kiss. He bid her goodnight after switching off the lamp and turning on her nightlight, leaving the door just slightly aja before stepping out into the hallway. He glanced in the direction of the living room, realizing all of the lights were off and that Aspen was probably back in the bedroom.

He walked in, shutting the door behind him just as Aspen emerged from the bathroom. Her makeup was already off, changed into her pajamas, which only consisted of sleep shorts and one of his shirts, and she offered a small smile as he took in the sight of her. “Hey,” she greeted softly. She nodded towards the door. “She’s down?”

Calum nodded, pushing himself off the door. “Out like a light,” he confirmed.

Aspen smiled, running her fingers through her hair. “Good, that’s good.” Licking her lips, her smile turned a bit shy, and she added, “I, uh, have something for you. One more gift.”

Calum blinked, fighting the urge to laugh because of how similar they were. He watched as she walked towards her bedside before his gaze shifted towards his own bedside, more specifically, under the bed where he’d hidden his last gift for Aspen. They’d exchanged presents in the morning, of course. Gifts they’d bought one another by knowing the other’s likes, gifts they’d both loved. He was gonna give her the last gift before bed, but looked like she had beat him to the punch.

Calum approached the bed as Aspen climbed onto it on her knees, him doing the same on his side, eyes going to the very familiar book he’d seen in her apartment. It was Luna’s baby book, and Calum’s eyebrows furrowed together as she held it out to him, slowly taking it from her but not before shooting her a confused look.

Aspen let out a breathless chuckle, rubbing her hands down her sides as she said, “Just look inside. I, uh, added some more pages.”

His eyebrows raised at that, settling back on his legs as he opened the book. He’d seen the familiar pages, all of Luna’s firsts and the pictures that went along with those moments, until he got to the pages that were definitely new. Calum could feel Aspen watching along in anticipation, in nervousness, except all he could focus on was the pages he was looking at and the tightness of his throat.

There were pictures added in there that Calum knew about, and some he didn’t know anyone—Aspen—had taken. Pictures with the labels of “First Spaghetti Sunday w/ Dad”, or “Dad’s First Gift”, or “First Birthday w/ Dad”. Aspen had added all of these pictures of Calum with Luna, or of the three of them together, of moments that had become some of his favorites. A warmth spread through Calum as he took in every picture, every word, heart picking up its pace. He could hear his own breathing, heavy with the emotion that suddenly washed over him, fingers brushing against the photographs of him with his two favorite girls. Aspen had made sure to make him as much a part of the baby book as he was in their lives, and while Calum was not much of a crier, she did a good job in springing the tears in his eyes with this thoughtful gift.

“Aspen,” he breathed out, voice thick and throaty with appreciation and adoration. “This—” Calum let out a short, disbelieving chuckle as he looked at her. He saw the hopeful expression on her face, eyes wide and small smile, and Calum shook his head. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I don’t—I love this.” He put the book down on the mattress before reaching for her, pulling her into a hug and keeping her close as he said, “I love you.”

He heard her let out a relieved laugh, returning his hug, and Calum shut his eyes as she squeezed him, the smile on his face hurting his cheeks as she returned, “I love you, too. We’re in this together, right? You and me.”

He pressed a kiss to the skin of her shoulder where his shirt fell off. “You and me.” Calum sniffed as they pulled away, and Aspen let out a soft, adoring laugh at the flush in his cheeks, cupping his face as she shot him a grin. “I’ve got somethin’ for you, too,” he told her, prompting Aspen to blink in surprise.

He shifted backwards, one foot touching the ground so he could bend down and pull out the gift bag from under the bed. Aspen raised her eyebrows as he handed it to her. She took it with an anticipating smile of her own, and right as she reached into it, Calum said with a nervous chuckle, “It’s really cheesy, okay? So don’t laugh.”

Aspen rolled her eyes at him, dismissing his thought. “I’m not gonna laugh,” she said, hand reaching past the decorative red tissue paper to grab onto the gift.

Calum pressed his lips together, watching as Aspen pulled out the medium sized decorative jar with a gold lid on top. He watched as Aspen observed it, took in the custom made label on it that read a simple and cheesy message of My Love For You. He felt the heat spread across his cheeks at that, mentally chastising himself for writing something so utterly cliche on the label. Then again, the entire idea of the gift was utterly sentimental and cheesy.

“It’s, uh,” he began explaining, chuckling shortly. “There’s a message on every slip of paper inside for you. Like, uh, reasons why I love you and stuff. There’s, um, one thousand six hundred and forty three little slips in there. . .  One for each day we, uh, weren’t in each other’s lives.”

He watched the way her lips parted at his words, eyes widening as she returned her gaze to the jar she held in her hands. He wasn’t sure why he felt so shy about giving her the gift, the vulnerability not something he was entirely fond of, though when it came to Aspen, Calum was quick to realize facing these types of things was a lot better than running away from them. His throat worked, waiting for her to say something, heart jumping when her glassy green eyes met his dark brown ones.

“Calum, it’s—this is so sweet,” she breathed out, her voice thick with awe as she let out a gentle laugh. Her voice took a teasing tilt, wanting to lighten the emotional mood as she playfully asked, “You have over a thousand reasons why you love me?”

Calum cracked a small smirk, quirking an eyebrow despite his racing heart. “It’s funny that you think I can run out of reasons.”

Her expression softened, a soft chuckle escaping at his words as she gave a shake of her head. Before she let the tears escape, Aspen put the jar down before one had found his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Calum returned it eagerly, softly, arms winding around her waist as he kissed her, settling back on his legs once more before using his hands on her thighs to lock her legs around his hips. She tasted like mint toothpaste and he reveled in the familiar softness of her lips, in the touch of her hands on his face as they kept each other close.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he found himself whispering against her lips, wanting nothing more than to melt into her.

Aspen sighed against him, utterly content. “Merry Christmas, Cal.”

--

tags: @irwinkitten​ @sweetcherrymike​ @meetashthere​ @valentinelrh​ @softforcal​ @astroashtonio​ @hereforlukescruff​ @novacanecalum​ @captain-what-is-going-on​ @angelbbycal​ @singt0mecalum​ @hopelessxcynic​ @lfwallscouldtalk​ @bodhi-black​ @findingliam-o​ @softlrh​ @calntynes​ @calumsmermaid​ @erikamarie41​ @quintodosuniversos​ @longlastingdaydream​ @babylon-corgis​ @lukehemmingsunflower​ @imfuckin10plybud​ @pastelpapermoons​ @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @sunnysidesblog​ @gorgeouslygrace​ @cocktail-calum​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes @lukeinblue​ @mysteriouslycali​ @hoodcentral​ @rosecoloredash​ @hearts-to-the-sky​ 

[mireu01]

Flowery Words (ateez florist!san oneshot)

A/N: @wooyoungist Surprise!! It’s me, your atiny secret valentine hehe. Here’s a little something I wrote for you as a gift. I hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s day!!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell above you rings as you open the front door of the little shop. A wave of warm air hits your face as you enter, carrying with it a multitude of perfumes. No scent is distinct, but your nose is pleased with the perfect blend of fragrances. The delicate morning rays seep in through the window, bringing alive all the blues, reds and yellows in the room—a vibrant spectacle of colours for your eyes.

“Good morning,” a melodious voice greets you.

You spot a young man behind the counter, a cute smile on his face as he watches you approach him. You remark that you hadn’t noticed him upon entering, possibly because he suited his floral surroundings so well.

“How can I help you today?”

You forget how to speak for a moment, all too amazed by the beauty of the little flower shop, as well as the man in front of you. Seeing his unwavering smile gives you back your words however, but they still only come out as a stutter. “I’m looking for something decorative… maybe even seasonal.”

He nods his head in thought. Going around the counter, he walks past you to pick flowers from different corners of the room. When he returns to your side, he’s holding a bouquet of yellow, orange and red flowers. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, in awe of how something of such beauty was put together so quickly. Your hand reaches up to touch one of the flowers, and you bend down to take in its scent. A small smile creeps on your face. When you stand upright, you notice that the man’s expression mirrors yours. You hold eye contact for a short second, before he quickly turns away to place the flowers in a basket.

“So are these flowers for a special occasion?” he asks as he rearranges the bouquet. 

“Sort of. My family and I are opening our restaurant today. We just wanted to have some flowers on display to decorate the place a little more.”

He gasps, “That’s the new restaurant across the street, right? I guess that makes us neighbours.”

You let out a small laugh, finding his words a little silly, but ultimately really cute. “I guess it does.”

He giggles in return, finally sliding the basket over to you. After paying him and thanking him for the flowers, you head for the door. You don’t get very far before he stops you however. When you turn back around, he seems to be huddled next to a shrub. He snips at the little bush, then approaches you holding a freshly cut stem. It’s adorned with the angelic white petals of small, delicate flowers. You wonder for a moment if he forgot to add it to the bouquet. But when he presents the flower to you in his outstretched hand, he seems to be encouraging you to take it. The sweet smile on his face makes your face grow hot, and you can only blink in confusion.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I just feel like my cooking isn’t good enough.”

The man in front of you, San, shakes his head. His hands never stop handling the flowers, rearranging their position to the liking of his artistic eye.

“That doesn’t mean you should stop trying. People naturally seek perfection, but their perception of it is constantly changing. That’s why no one is ever truly satisfied with their own work.” Laying his hands on the counter, he turns to you. “You started cooking to help your parents, right?”

“Yes,” you say simply.

“Then cook for them. Don’t cook to be number one. Try your best for them, and they’ll see and appreciate that.”

Looking down at your feet, you let San’s words sink in. You can only respond with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. You hear him walk towards a different part of the shop, his pace slow as if searching for something.

“How about this,” he begins, “when you get back from school later, you prepare something and I’ll come by and taste it myself. Then I’ll give you my unbiased opinion.”

By the end of his sentence, San is next to you again. In his hand is a dainty yellow flower. He holds it out to you, close enough that you can count its eight little petals. The sight is reminiscent of when you first met him in this same shop.

“What do you say?”

When you look up at him, you see him smiling. You notice the dimples on his cheeks, and how it makes him look even cuter than he already does. You can’t stop the heat from rising to your face.

“A-alright,” you mumble, not being able to reject him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as San continues to scroll through the album of pictures on his phone. Finding a selfie of himself, he points out to you the new toy plush that he’s posing with. He goes on and on, telling you everything about it. He’s been at it for over thirteen pictures now, but it doesn’t seem to bother you . On the contrary, you actively listen to him speak so sweetly and so passionately. To you, this side of San is even more endearing than the side he shows his customers, and you were happy that you’ve discovered it.

The hanging bell rings at the front of the store. You wonder who could possibly be coming in, as the flower shop is usually empty at this hour. When you turn around to see who’s at the door, you’re surprised to find your mother entering. When she spots you at the counter next to San, she doesn’t seem any less shocked than you.

“Mom? I thought you were prepping the kitchen? What are you doing here?” You approach her, taking her hands in yours.

“You never came back to the restaurant, so I assumed you went to school early. I came here to get the new flowers myself.”

You stare at her for a moment, confused by her words. The chime of a grandfather clock resonates throughout the little shop and catches your attention. You look over, and when you notice where the hour hand is hovering, you choke on the floral scented air.

“It’s already 10?!”

You almost pass out—but you can’t let yourself faint when you’re already going to be late for your ten o’clock exam. You practically yank your hands away from your mother’s, making her jump in surprise. You stumble as you run back to the counter where San is still standing. He watches in slight amusement as you attempt to scoop up all your belongings in one swift movement, but fail miserably.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I’ll just text you later,” you tell San as you pick up some of your things that had rolled to the floor.

You don’t give him time to respond before sprinting back to the front door, kissing your mother’s cheek on the way out.

As you run down the now busy street, you glance down at the flower in your hand. You received it from San just a few minutes earlier, and you managed to take it with you in your rush. You inspect the lilac purple petals for any damage that could have been done to them, paying little attention to your surroundings and almost getting run over in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You momentarily stop stirring the pan on the stove, looking over your shoulder when you hear your mother call your name. Your brows furrow in confusion as she takes the wooden spoon from your hands and motions you to take over her place at the cash register. The grin on her face is suggestive, but you only understand it when you turn around; standing in front of the counter is San. He looks around the small restaurant, waiting patiently for someone to take his order—which in this case was going to be you. When his eyes sweep over to land on you, the corners of his lips curve up into a small smile.

“You’re here early today,” you say once you come face-to-face with him. Your words come out as more of a question rather than a statement.

“Well I know that you have classes later today,” he begins, moving his hand from behind his back, “so I wanted to come see you before you left.”

Presented before you, between San’s soft fingers, is a single exquisite flower. Its petals look as if they were glowing white, fading into a light yellow at its base. The striking contrast between the snow white petals and the forest green leaves makes the flower even more eye-catching.

“Oh,” you breathe out, stunned by both his words and his offering. Hesitantly, you reach out to take it from him.

At that moment, you suddenly become very aware of your surroundings, and you feel embarrassed by what just unfolded. You had, to a certain degree, become accustomed to San’s flowers, but only in private. This was the first time he’d given you one around other people, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You clutch the flower near your chest, trying to hide the evidence of your friend’s incredibly charming gesture. To your horror, you hear giggles coming from behind you. When you look back, you spot your parents whispering to each other, stealing glances in your direction. You almost snap at San for doing something relatively gossip-worthy in a public space. But when you look up at him, the innocent smile on his face makes your heart melt just a little.

“T-thanks,” you mumble instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re fully aware of how disrespectful you’re being. But no matter how hard you try to stay focused on your conversation with this young man, you repeatedly get distracted by San. You wonder to yourself where you’d gone wrong; why would San not speak to you anymore? It’s blatantly obvious to you that he’s avoiding you. Heck, he’s been standing a few feet away from you for minutes now, but has yet to acknowledge your presence or even look in your direction.

“What do you think?” the young man asks.

You blink at your customer. Eventually you process that you were just asked a question. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

“I was wondering if you were interested in having dinner with me tomorrow evening,” he says with a chuckle.

This time round, you hear his words a little more clearly. Before you can give a proper response, you see San move in the corner of your eye. You don’t even try to hide your interest anymore, turning your head to watch him. He steps forward, taking the bag of food from your mother. You see a small smile on his lips when he thanks her, but it quickly disappears when he sees you. Turning around, he heads for the door.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Tomorrow evening... Could you, uh”—you glance one last time at the customer— “just give me a sec. I’ll be right back.”

You follow after San. By the time you step out of the restaurant, he’s already across the street, entering the flower shop. As you’re about to take a step forward, you notice a flower pot sitting outside the shop. You note that it’s the first time you’ve seen it among the other exterior displays. The pale yellow flowers planted in it stood out from the surrounding greenery, as if making a statement to those that pass by.

At that exact moment, you are reminded that about a dozen customers are waiting for you inside the restaurant. Reluctantly, you decide against going after San, and force yourself to head back inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stare at San’s stoic expression. It’s so unfamiliar to you; it would have made you uncomfortable, if not for his handsome features. You can’t help but think of how much you miss his smile.

You clear your throat, expecting him to look at you, but he doesn’t even blink. His eyes and hands give the flowers his full attention, determined to get the job done quickly.

“I learned something yesterday.” You pause for a moment, but continue when you don’t get a response from San, “One of my regular customers gave me these beautiful red flowers. He said that he bought them from your store.”

Abandoning the bouquet, San goes to stand behind the counter. “That’ll be sixty-two thousand won,” he tells you, ignoring your story.

“He said you helped him pick them out.” You search for his averting eyes as you pass him the money. “Apparently you told him that those flowers symbolize love and passion. Is that true? Do those flowers actually have symbolism?”

San finally looks at you. Staring into his eyes, you see something in them that you can’t quite decipher. They try to tell you something, but you have a hard time reading the emotion behind them.

“The flowers that you gave me… did they mean anything?”

San slides the flowers closer to you, never breaking eye contact. His voice is so monotone, it frightens you. “Thank you for stopping by. I hope you have a nice day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♡ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stare at the bouquet of pastel purple flowers sitting on the counter. Picking it up, you notice a tag hanging from the stem wrap. On it reads your name, written in black ink.

“What is this?” you ask your mother.

When you look up at her, she just shrugs. You manage to catch the small smile on her face before she heads into the back kitchen; you’re left alone in the main area of the small restaurant.

Looking back down at the counter, you spot a little booklet hiding underneath the flowers. Taking it in your hands, you realize that it’s handmade. On the cover, in the same handwriting as the tag, is written Choi San’s Floriography.

Turning to the first page of the booklet, you find a picture of a white flower, and the words White Hibiscus Flower - Beauty written below it. You vaguely remember seeing the flower somewhere before. Realization hits you when you read the paragraph at the bottom of the page.

I remember when you first stepped inside the flower shop. You looked so beautiful, I forgot how to speak for a second… I’m not sure how, but I managed to find the courage to give you this flower before you left.

Even in your shock, you manage to let out a small laugh. You recall the first time you met San in the flower shop. The image of him smiling brightly among all the colourful flowers would stay engraved in your memory forever.

Turning the page, a picture of a familiar yellow flower was taped to the paper. Coreopsis Flower - Cheerfulness. Since the day he gave you that flower, San had become your source of comfort.

I always loved seeing you happy. When you came to the flower shop one day feeling insecure about your cooking, I wanted to do nothing more than make you smile again.

The third page had Purple Freesia Flowers. Next to its name was the word Friendship. You remembered having that flower on your desk next to you while doing your exam. It helped you calm down while you were freaking out over showing up thirty minutes late to the test.

Over time, I saw you as more than just the pretty girl from the restaurant across the street. I loved spending time with you. You were always invested in everything I had to say.

You gasp when you read Secret Love on the next page, underneath the picture of a white flower. It was the same as the one San gave you months ago when he came to the restaurant. The Gardenia Flower.

I was a coward for too long. I was too scared to tell you that I liked you that day, so I gave you this flower, hoping maybe you could understand what I wasn’t able to say with words.

Your mouth hangs open as you read the words again. It was hard for you to fully understand what San was trying to say. You read over the next pages quickly, trying to find a more explicit explanation in his short paragraphs.

Yellow Hyacinth Flowers - Jealousy. When I noticed, a few weeks ago, that one of your customers was interested in you, I tried not to let it affect me. But seeing you talk to him everyday didn’t do me any good. Whenever I would pass by these flowers inside the shop, I felt like they were mocking me, reminding me of how jealous I was actually feeling.

Red Petunia Flowers - Resentment. I lied to that guy when I told him petunias represent love and passion. When he came in to buy flowers for you, it just made me angry. I acted immature and gave him flowers that reflected my own emotions instead.

On the last page, you find a picture of flowers identical to the ones you hold in your hands.

Purple Hyacinth Flowers - Apology. I realize now that this whole time I was just angry at myself. I was angry for being afraid to tell you my feelings. I felt as if I didn’t deserve your friendship if I was hiding that from you… so I kept my distance. But I wasn’t mindful of how that could hurt you. I’m really sorry for ignoring you for so long. I hope that you could accept my sincere apology, because I think I’m finally ready to be honest with you…

Slowly lowering the booklet, you let San’s words sink in. You get your brain in gear, trying to figure out what to make of all of this. Without wasting another second, you get on your feet and bolt out the restaurant. You notice how dark it is outside now. You’re relieved to see lights still on in the flower shop across the street. You aren’t exactly sure what you plan on saying to San, but you run over anyway.

The bell above you rings as you open the front door of the little shop. A wave of warm air hits your face as you enter, carrying with it a multitude of perfumes. No scent is distinct, but your nose is pleased with the perfect blend of fragrances. The soft glow from the pendant lights fills the little space, bringing alive all the blues, reds and yellows in the room—a vibrant spectacle of colours for your eyes. You spot San at the counter, who looks up when he hears the front door opening. You’re quick to approach him.

“San...”

You slow when you see the paper he holds out to you. Taking it in your hands, you look over the picture stuck to it. Even before reading the name below it, you recognize the pictured flower as a red rose. Love.

“I’m tired of being a coward,” San says.

When you look up, he’s standing next to you. In his hands is a bouquet. The deep red petals of the flowers look almost like velvet. Red roses. He tilts them towards you, letting you see the heart of each individual flower.

“I wanted you to know that I like you,” he starts, looking you in the eye. “I’m not asking you to reciprocate these feelings, but—”

You didn’t think before kissing him on the cheek. It just happened. You feel your whole face heat up as you pull away. Brows raised, San stares at your blushing face.

“Don’t worry… I… like you too.”

In response to your mumbled words, a smirk slowly finds its way on his lips.

[edsbrak]

let the light in

pairing: Steddie word count: 3k summary:  Eddie wants to have his first kiss. Stan unexpectedly volunteers.

Read on Ao3 here!

(a short n sweet little steddie drabble bc I love them and I couldn’t stop thinking about this prompt for weeks! I hope you guys like it! enjoy! xx)

Being in the Kaspbrak household always keeps Stan on edge – mainly because of the woman downstairs he and their group of friends all call ‘The Terminator’. Not in front of Eddie though, of course. Stan knows that even with how crazy she is, Eddie would still take offence to it, his small stature figuratively growing in what Stan believes is just Eddie defending himself instead, not her.

It’s only himself here at the moment, perched precariously on Eddie’s desk chair as said owner of the chair sits comfortably on his bedsheets, legs crossed as he nibbles absentmindedly at the end of his pencil. Stan wants so badly to rip it out of there, watching as the thin layer of mental bends with each bite of Eddie’s teeth.

Eddie had asked him earlier that morning at school if Stan could come over and help him with an assignment. He’d agreed, knowing Eddie must really be struggling if he was asking just Stan.

They’d ditched the other Losers and watched as they made their way over to the Aladdin as he and Eddie turned the other way. These days Mrs. K only ever let Eddie have friends over if it was for study purposes, and they’d both shown their math textbooks as proof when they’d walked through the front door not an hour ago.

“How are you going with question five?” he asks after a few minutes of silence have passed. Stan himself finished up 10 minutes ago, but Eddie hasn’t written anything down in that time, which Stan guesses means he’s struggling again.

“Fine,” Eddie lies.

Eddie knows how Stan feels about lying, so he must really be determined to work this out by himself. But it would only defeat the purpose of inviting Stan over to help him in the first place, so slowly Stan gets up to walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge.

“Really?”

Eddie huffs quickly before shifting his book up further to his face. Stan sighs gently and reaches out to lower it.

“Where are you stuck?” he asks.

Eddie’s mouth twists, and that’s one thing about Eddie that is like Mrs. K: they’re both stubborn in nature.

“Here, let me show you…” Stan says tentatively, trying not to sound pitying, knowing Eddie hates it whenever anyone treats him incapable of doing things.

He begins going over the numbers, being cautious not to talk too fast. The Losers were all in junior year at the moment, and both he and Eddie were taking advanced mathematics. Eddie because Mrs. K had it out for the other maths teacher at school and demanded he be transferred, and Stan because his parents discovered how well he could calculate when he was 10 and in his dad’s study counting up the bills.

When he’s done, Eddie mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before he tries his hand at it. Stan watches on, shifting sideways on the bed so his back isn’t twisting uncomfortably anymore. Eddie’s nose scrunches up as he works, the end of his tongue peeking out occasionally as he writes down each equation. It’s endearing enough that Stan becomes distracted and misses the moment Eddie finishes writing the answer and he’s looking at Stan with a proud smile, eyes deep and wide.

Stan clears his throat before reading over Eddie’s reasoning, finding that it all checks out.

“Nice job,” Stan smiles back. “Pretty soon you’ll be making linear inequalities your bitch.”

Eddie fake gasps. “He swore.”

“Don’t tell anyone I’m funny either, or else I’ll have to kill you,” Stan whispers dangerously, and it only puts Eddie in a state of giggles. Stan finds he enjoys it very much.

They work on finishing up the next 4 questions together, each one longer than the last, their shoulders touching as they lean up against the wall. Eddie thinks if he can get them done quickly they can still meet up with the other Losers and maybe head down to the quarry and soak up the remaining hours of daylight. In a perfect world it might be possible, but Stan isn’t sure about Mrs. K letting their little club interrupt her son’s precious dinnertime.

By question 8 Stan gets up to use the toilet, going through the process of washing his hands three times before closing the door behind him. As he’s walking back, Eddie appears stuck again, looking anywhere but his textbook as he chews on his bottom lip.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to meet his, and he looks away just as quickly. Stan frowns, wondering what could have happened in the time he was in the bathroom.

“Nothing, ‘s fine,” Eddie mutters.

“Clearly,” Stan challenges.

Neither say anything else for a beat, until Eddie’s shoulders unclench and he releases a deep sigh. He looks slightly uncomfortable and Stan can’t help but be a little on edge about it.

Finally, Eddie says, “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

Stan blinks, not expecting that to be the cause of Eddie’s stress. “What?”

“I feel like I’m the last one in the group to have a first kiss,” Eddie continues as if Stan hadn’t said anything. He’s twisting his pencil around, obviously nervous. “We know Bev, Bill and Richie have all kissed someone, right?”

Stan sighs softly. He sits down again where he’d been before, thinking over his next words carefully. “Well, I can’t say for sure about everyone. But…” he stops to swallow. “No, I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Eddie doesn’t react with surprise like Stan had thought he might. He’s still biting his lip as he looks at something across the room, as if deep in thought. Stan is about ready to move on with this conversation and return Eddie’s focus to his homework, but Eddie isn’t finished with it yet, apparently.

“Stan, I…” he starts, gaze darting every which way before he shakes his head. “Um, never mind.”

There’s a feeling deep in Stan’s gut, an inkling to what might have been on the tip of Eddie’s tongue. It sends a shiver up his spine; unexpected, but not unwelcome. Mind working a mile a minute, he goes through all the ways in which this could be damaging territory; instincts yelling at him to let it go. But there is a small part of him, hidden deeper; a part he isn’t sure he was even aware of until right now, as if Eddie had unlocked it with his perfectly innocent question.

Breathing through his nose, Stan exhales with a tremble before uttering, “We can try it.”

Stan’s suspicions are confirmed when Eddie’s expression morphs into surprise.

“We can kiss.” Stan isn’t sure why he repeats his statement. To assure Eddie or himself, he doesn’t know. “That’s… would you like to?”

Almost in slow motion, Eddie nods in answer. His eyes are still blown wide, like he’s waiting for Stan to yell ‘Ha! As if I’d kiss you, weirdo!’ To show he’s serious, Stan removes the textbooks in Eddie’s lap and places them carefully off to the side out of harm’s way. Eddie is still frozen, and Stan stops to ask, “Eddie?”

Instantly he’s snapping out of it, but still looking unsure. “Right. Yep. Okay.”

“We don’t have to,” Stan offers gently.

Eddie is shaking his head again before Stan even finished. “No, I want to.” And he sounds genuine this time, eyes set as he glances down to Stan’s lips occasionally. “I trust you.”

Stan feels another thrill, trying to keep it under wraps because it seems like he’ll be taking the reins on this one, despite the both of them being unfamiliar in this area. The most Stan has ever seen of kissing is from his parents and the various movies they all watch together. Eddie on the other hand, Stan thinks, is less aware, only having Richie’s less than tact descriptions about him and some girl going at it behind the school’s sports shed.

“Okay, well…” Stan stops to think again. “Let’s get comfortable first, right?”

“R-right,” Eddie answers, but when he makes no move Stan takes initiative and scoots back to the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. Eddie follows, his hand brushing against Stan’s as he goes. “Now what?”

“I guess we just… kiss?” At Eddie’s small noise that directly translates to ‘And?’, Stan clears his throat. “Alright. Well, when kissing, you close your eyes just before your lips touch.”

“Right,” Eddie nods, licking his lips almost subconsciously.

“And it’s best of your lips aren’t too wet, either,” Stan adds, hating when his aunts greet him at family gatherings with a spit-slick kiss on his cheek. Immediately Eddie is wiping at his lips with the back of his hand and Stan inwardly smiles. “Okay, we’ll start with a small kiss first; closed mouth.”

Eddie releases a slow breath, hands fisted into the sheets by his sides. Stan keeps one hand in his lap and the other on the bed next to Eddie to maintain some balance. Tentatively, he leans in, eyelids dropping halfway as he watches Eddie copy his movements. There’s no denying how badly Stan’s body is shaking right now, not wanting to screw this up as he puts on a front of faux confidence.

When their noses brush his skin tingles, and this close up, Stan can see Eddie’s freckles ever clearer than usual. Before he can chicken out, Stan closes the remaining gap and blindly finds Eddie’s lips in a soft kiss.

It lasts maybe 3 seconds, but for Stan, at least, it felt like a lifetime. A good one at that.

Simple, quick, foolproof.

They both draw back, and Eddie still has his eyes closed when Stan opens his.

“Was that okay?”

Eddie’s eventually flutter open, and Stan notices his cheeks are slightly flushed, eyes practically sparkling. “Yes.”

That one simple word is enough to have Stan boasting on the inside, completely chuffed he was able to give Eddie a nice first kiss after all. Feeling accomplished, he pulls back further to give Eddie his space, only Eddie doesn’t look relieved that it’s over, more like he’s shocked that Stan is moving away at all.

“Wait,” he says, his hand landing on Stan’s forearm quickly.

Stan gives him a curious look, trying not to linger on the heat emitting from Eddie’s skin. “What is it?” Perhaps he read the signs wrong and Eddie actually isn’t satisfied with that being his first kiss experience.

“Do you think…” Eddie’s hand grips tighter, almost fidgeting. “Can we… do it again?”

“You… want to do it again?” Stan repeats, more so making sure for his own sake.

“I mean, we don’t have to—” Eddie murmurs, withdrawing.

“No!” Stan interjects, lowering his voice when Eddie jumps slightly. “I mean – yes, I – I would like to.”

Eddie almost appears to sag in relief, energy giddy if Stan had to describe it somehow. They resume their previous positions, this time slightly closer than before.

“I know people begin to move their lips when they get more confident, right?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Stan says. Despite having just kissed each other, the thought of kissing Eddie again suddenly has Stan even more nervous than before. “Keep it slow and steady. Remember to breathe through your nose while you do it.”

“Okay.”

Stan’s pulse quickens when Eddie grabs onto his arm again, shifting in as close as they can possibly be while sitting side by side. They begin to lean in, eyes slipping shut when their lips are close enough, and it’s just as electric as before when they press together.

Stan tilts his head marginally, his free hand twitching with a need to grasp something. And then Eddie opens his mouth slightly and Stan follows suit, lips parting as his bottom lip slips in between Eddie’s own naturally. He can feel Eddie’s breath hitch, obviously forgetting to breath with his nose, but Stan can’t bring it in himself to stop and remind him, so incredibly overcome with glee as he slowly becomes lightheaded from the feeling of… everything.

He can hear the small wet sound when their lips separate, slow and intimate, and without realising what he’s doing, Stan reaches up to cup Eddie’s cheek to angle Eddie to his other side. Stan reconnects their mouths again, working in tandem as he guides Eddie through the motions of it. Stan can’t believe they’ve managed to get this far, and from the sounds of it, Eddie is pleased with the results.

Eddie makes another small noise, a happy one, Stan’s sure, and Eddie’s other hand moves up so he’s gripping both of Stan’s arms tightly, like he’s scared he might fall.

Only when an unexpected touch appears in the form of the tip of Eddie’s tongue does Stan draw back, slightly startled as he looks at Eddie questioningly. Eddie seems embarrassed until he starts to panic at Stan’s expression.

“Sorry, I’m—” he says through short puffs. “I didn’t know if – I – I thought that was the next step. At least, that’s what Bill and Richie say—”

At the mention of their friends names, Stan can’t help but fixate on it. The entire Losers club, sans Bill, are all aware of Eddie’s childhood crush on their unofficial group leader. Stan’s never stopped to ask Eddie if he still likes Bill, and now he’s wondering why that’s even something to worry about at all. But the thought of Eddie kissing someone else after this, of maybe just using Stan as a means to show Bill that he’s more mature and grown up now doesn’t sit right with Stan.

Mind clouded with Eddie and Eddie only, Stan shocks himself and reacts purely on impulse as he dives back in to claim Eddie’s lips. He ends up hitting the corner of Eddie’s mouth, and there’s a small struggle as they rearrange for a better fit, lips moving more urgently than they need to be as a wave of need and want washes over Stan unexpectantly.

Eddie releases his grips on Stan’s arms to grab the collar of his shirt instead, pulling him in impossibly closer as Stan cups both sides of Eddie’s face.

Lips detach and reattach, sharing breaths and teeth accidently bumping together. Feeling bold, Stan tries what Eddie had done and pokes his tongue out, slowly grazing over what he thinks is Eddie’s top lip. Eddie produces a noise that makes Stan’s blood pulse, buzzing all around him. Finally their tongues both touch, not delving deep but sliding together occasionally as Eddie’s hands roam up closer to Stan’s hair.

Stan doesn’t know how it got to this point and isn’t sure he cares. “Eddie,” he manages to whisper between their mouths, and Eddie takes this as a sign to draw his feet off the floor and twist, desperate to keep their lips connected as he moves.

Stan isn’t sure where he’s going until Eddie is trying to get one leg over Stan’s to land in the middle. Instinctively Stan allows it, nerves overwhelmed as Eddie towers over him and sucks all of the air out of his lungs, fingers pin-points of warmth along his skin.

It’s nothing like Stan thought it would be and everything he’s glad it is.

Just when Stan’s sure his heart is about to jackhammer right out of his chest, a shrill cry booms from downstairs.

“Eddie! Dinner!”

They practically jump apart as if they’ve been burned, Eddie stumbling back on the carpet as Stan stays locked on the bed. They’re both panting hard, faces flushed and lips shiny with spit. When Eddie makes no effort to answer his mother, she predictably calls up again.

“Eddie-bear!”

Eddie visibly swallows. Stan is thankful Mrs. K never wants to trek the short walk up the stairs, otherwise she might have caught them in the act, and there is no way that could ever end well.

“Coming, ma!” Eddie manages to get out.

As if his ass is suddenly on fire, Stan shoots up from the bed and begins to pack up his things at the same time he tries to calm his body down.

“I’ll, um…” he begins, zipping his bag all the way over and hiking it over his shoulders. “I should go.”

“Right,” Eddie says, voice small.

Neither make a move for a few seconds, just staring at each other like their brains were just now finally catching up on everything that just transpired. It honestly felt like a fever dream, like stepping out of the twilight zone and back into reality after years without it. Stan can’t believe his first ever kiss was with Eddie of all people, and even more surprising he can’t think of one single fault in that knowledge now. It just feels right.

Clutching his backpack straps, Stan nods and begins the walk downstairs with Eddie in tow. Mrs. K is in the lounge room, dinner set up on the small table next to her, and she looks over at the two boys when they pass.

“Did you get your homework done, Eddie?” she asks.

“Yes, mommy,” Eddie mumbles.

“Good boy.”

There’s a lot Stan wishes he could say but knows he can’t. Instead, he says his goodbyes to Eddie before reaching for the doorknob, heart still beating fast even when he steps outside into the fresh air. He takes a moment to compose himself, straightening out his collar and hair as he sucks in several deep breaths.

As he starts to walk away, the shocking revelation in the pit of his stomach only seems to grow, desperate to find out exactly what was going to happen now that he and Eddie shared a moment together that Stan would argue was anything but a friendly lesson of kiss-and-tell. And before he can fester anymore on it, he hears the familiar creek of the front door opening and small, fast steps running after him.

“Stan!”

Stan turns around, about to ask Eddie what could be wrong, but his words are silenced when Eddie leans up to kiss him swiftly.

“Oh,” Stan says when it’s over, unable to think of anything else.

Eddie is already stepping away, expression shocked like he’s surprised by his actions, and he leaves Stan with these parting words: “See you tomorrow in class?”

Stan simply nods, watching as Eddie disappears back up into his house.

Maybe it’s not the exact answer his fast-working mind wants right now, but in his heart, he knows it’s the best one he could have gotten.

Stan smiles all the way home.

[firecrackerroot]

Dear DC3, here’s the answer you deserve....

Once again, my friend, once again you manage to make me tear up at work and spend an entire day thinking about how to reply to you. But I’m going to try. AS best as I can without starting to cry again ahahaha everything you said is in bold and my answer will be bellow each part. Here we go....

Your mind? Unmatched. Your writing ability? Flawless. Hotel? Trivago.

Okay, so two three things first:

1. I’m not sure if you can see my email (I had to put it on the form to submit this), but just in case you can I want it to be known that middle school me did not know how horrible a person real life Randy Orton is. I have since come to my senses and no longer stan.

- I completely understand because I too have an embarassing email and it’s too late to let it go ahaha

2. I’m sorry this took a century to get to you. My only excuse is a winter storm that the States had wrecked my internet connection (and my will to do anything productive, tbh). To make up for it, I shall share my thoughts on both chapter 10 and the epilogue at the same time so it doesn’t take me another hundred years to message you about the last chapter.

- I would’ve waited another century, don’t worry :) as for the storm, I hope the only thing it damaged was your internet connection and that other than that, everything else is okay. And just like your internect connection, I hope your will to do anything productive has been restored!

Sidenote: I’m finishing writing this at 4:30am where I live, so I’m going to go ahead and apologize if most of this has spelling errors or doesn’t make sense. I’m going to try and go back over this before I submit it so you don’t have to read a whole mess………. but also I’m tired so….. sorry :D

- 4.30am??????????? On a week day?????????? Holy shit! Thank you for your bravery, truly ahahaha 

Anyways, onto my favorite fic ever…

- *blushes*

I love how you were able to explain The Marine 6’s plot in a way that didn’t take away from the story you were telling. I believe that even if I never watched the film, I would still be able to understand what was going on… but since I did watch the whole thing, I greatly appreciated how you structured this chapter in a way that you didn’t explicitly need to recap everything that was going on in the movie. It made for a much smoother read, so thank you.

- Phew! I’m glad to know that, both those things. The structure and the plot. Because I struggled a little bit with making sure everything would fit and make sense and I had to keep thinking about the movie and plot holes where I could fit my story so.... It was a lot of juggling. And fun fact: I tweeted the director of the movie about how long he thinks the action of the movie took, just to be sure my hours were correct but he didn’t get the questions and told me how long it took them to shoot the movie so I just went with my calculations ahahahaha

“In fact, had Maddy stayed in their apartment another minute or two, Cassie would’ve been on her knees pleading for her not to go.” I love this sentence because of how easily you were able to express Cassie’s love for Maddy in four short words: “on her knees pleading.” Picturing tall, strong Cassie so willing to show that type of vulnerability to Maddy is just so… i can’t think of the word… idyllic? idk… it was just a really gentle moment between the two. I genuinely enjoyed that simple sentence.

- Now that you mention it, I’m actually picturing tall strong Cassie on her knees begging Maddy not to go and it hurts. But I get what you’re saying. Is a type of vulnerability not everyone is willing to give/feel and we don’t get to see every day. But those two? They’re on that level.

Also, I love how you were able to insert your own universe in actual movie events without it being a reach. For example, having Cassie be the reason the boat and Cat showed up was a really nice touch and such an effortless way to express how much Cass looks out for Maddy.

- Cat actually shows up because Maddy asks one of the guys to ask her to return and bring the rest of them but, while Cat is driving there, she can still tell Cassie what’s happening. As for the boat, it felt so random in the movie that I had to explain it. Like......... She’s supposed to hold Sarah hostage in the building and then leave so why would the boat be there? Makes no sense ahahaha

I’m not sure if I’ve ever properly addressed this (and I’m still not sure how to word it correctly), but I love how your foreshadowing(?) comes off almost offhandedly? Like, you mentioned once about the significance of Cassie’s name in Greek mythology and then you subtly had that theme pop up in Maddy’s musings about her in past chapters… and if you weren’t paying attention I feel like it’d be easy to overlook those little tie-ins you so seamlessly include. I think it’s referred to as a motif? I’m not really sure, though, I never really spent time trying to understand that stuff in school and now I’m kinda regretting it lol. But anyways, I believe this is the first time you outwardly used that mythology connection to Cassie’s “predicting” an event in this chapter à la the drowning nightmare she had after watching a scary movie before bed. And that’s not the only thing that you would reference to in a past chapter and then repeatedly tie into something going on in the current chapter (like the life-changing car ride moments, the knife, etc.)… This story was so connected and thought out it blows my mind because I feel like that’s the type of writing I usually see in actual books and not fanfiction.

- Tbh I have no idea what it’s called either ahahahahaha but....... I truly like full circles. In shows and movies and books. And when they’re, like you say I do, easily overlooked, it makes everything more awesome because whenever you go back, you find something new. And I like that so.... I write that................. One thing about Cassie’s predictions tho. The mythology about her said no one believed her predictions and Maddy didn’t believe she shouldn’t go and, well, look what happened.

You’re such an intelligent writer and I’m not sure if I just never paid enough attention to other fics before or what, but I feel like I haven’t seen the same amount of time, dedication, and thought you put into your work be replicated in the same success in anything else I’ve read on ao3. And that’s not to say that other stories I spent time reading on that site weren’t good or the author didn’t spend as much time as you did on their story… but idk dude, there was just something so special about your fic that I had to say something. Honestly, I think that’s what made me reach out to you, to begin with. I just needed you to know how fantastic this story was because it touched me in a way other fics haven’t. But lemme stop this ramble here because we have more of the actual story to discuss…

- *insert photo of Becky, crying, holding her title close to her chest after the Last Woman Standing match* 

I’m not sure if it was how I was reading it or if you meant it this way, but once Michael helped Cassie provide Maddy another means of an escape through water, I feel like Cassie’s panic over the situation skyrocketed and that feeling was replicated in the way you wrote her thought process. I even started to read the chapter a bit faster to find out what was going to happen next, which caused me to miss things; I had to go back and force myself to slow down and absorb your words properly- something I feel like Cassie was also doing as to not prematurely freak out over a situation that hasn’t happened yet. So that was kind of cool “bonding” moment I had with Cassie there lol.

- I love that you bonded with Cassie for all the wrong reasons ahahahaahahahahahahhahahahahaah but yeah, I meant it like that. The fact that Michael sent the boat didn’t help Cassie calm down. It only worsen the situation for her because all she could think about was her dream and it was suffocating her.

“This time, Cassie’s heart was sinking lower and lower in her body. To a depth she had never reached.” STOP WITH THE DROWNING REFERENCES IT HURTS MY HEART!!!

- I’M. SORRY.

“IF YOU DON’T CALL IT, I WILL PICK UP THAT PHONE AND I WILL MOVE HELL IF I HAVE TO.” I imagine if this was a movie that this would be the part where the audience would cheer the main character for not sitting idly by and letting the love of their life die and also where the gays would weep because "they love each other so much” 😂

- True and every true ahahahahahaahhahahaha

“I’m not going to lose the love of my life because of someone who never loved her enough.” Okay, wow, the power of that statement hurt but also YASSSSS CASSIE. It’s ridiculous how much you’ve made me love these characters. Like I feel actual happiness that Maddy has someone like Cassie to love her that perfectly (and i’m a lil jealous because why can’t I find my own Cassie?)

- Confession: I had to stop writing after that line because I started crying about it. And that was one of the lines I didn’t have planned. I was doing my thing, thinking about that dialogue and suddenly I hear Cassie’s crying voice say that in the back of my mind and I had to sit down because well, shit. (you’ll find your Cassie unless...................... you’re Cassie!)

Also, it is so refreshing to have a healthy parental relationship being shown here. Honestly, the fact that Michael, without question, gave up a favor with the coast guard all based on Cassie feeling that something was wrong is HUGE. Michael could have used that favor if something went wrong in a deal and they had to hide evidence in the water or something… like it could have been a “get out of jail free” card and he didn’t even blink when deciding to use it on Cassie’s whim. I’m so, so, so happy Maddy found the Knox’s. She deserves this level of  love after the bullshit her father has put her through… When you expand this universe into little one-shots, I would love to see the Knox family dynamics where Maddy is concerned. Like the process of how each member fell in love and accepted this broken Irish girl into their family and the maddening moments where they could tell Maddy didn’t understand how important she is to them. I can just imagine how many headaches her obliviousness gave the Knox’s throughout the years.

- Michael might be a mob king but he’s a very Soft man. And not only did he knew how much Maddy meant to Cassie, he also wasn’t willing to lose Maddy. Which means that if he could do something to save her, even if it meant giving up a “get out of jail free” card, as you say it, to help? Then so be it. Also isn’t it painfully interesting that Horus destroyed Maddy’s life in more ways than one but at the same time, he was the one that gave her the Knox’s? Makes you think.......................................... As for your wish, consider it granted. Title of the story? “Michael and Beth: 2 times they realized they loved Maddy and 2 times they wished she understood.”

When you switch back to Maddy’s POV and she basically says she deserves to die because of the choices she made, I wanted to grab her out of the water and strangle her myself for being so DUMB to believe she deserved it and for how SELFISH she was by giving up because Cassie doesn’t deserve a dead girlfriend!!!! Ugh, I love her so much but sometimes I really want to ram Maddy’s head against the wall lmaoo.

- Same, my friend, same ahahahahaha when I imagined the scene and proceeded to write it, I remember laughing because c’mon Madssssssssssssssssssssss, the girl is waiting!

“Beth, her mother, was waiting by the hospital door and no one seemed to be around. Strange for that time of the day.” Ah, I see the “great lengths to protect” Maddy conversation we had on tumblr came to play here. Again, I’m so glad she has this family in her life.

- That’s exactly it. Michael emptied that aisle of the hospital just so Maddy could be taken in without being seen.

Also, did the importance of the mausoleum ever come into play? Maybe I’ll answer my own question when I reread the epilogue to write my comments on that… Speaking of, I can’t believe how long this post already is and I’m not even on the epilogue yet.

- Not explicitly, no. Since the Hayes left when Nora was killed, her body was left behind for others to bury. Others being her family that never approved her marriage to Horus. So, obviously, they’d bury her on their terms, with her name. It was also a little bit of foreshadowing that Maddy too wouldn’t be buried in the mausoleum.

“To know it was real and that she hadn’t been fed false hopes only to crumble to her knees by a hospital bed.” Hmmmmm, is this a subtle nod to earlier in the chapter where Cassie was going to drop to her knees and beg Maddy to stay? ‘Cause then you do the same thing with the, “Everything was calm. The storm had already passed. And they both reached the shore. Safe and sound.” lines. Tying it back to the beginning of their relationship where a storm was roaring until they stopped being stupid and gentle rain awarded them after they finally embraced. It’s poetic really.

- I didn’t meant that kneeling to be a subtle nod to the beginning of the chapter but I did mean the storm passing one. Good eye!!!!!!

I don’t even want to talk about the following paragraphs that lead to the end of the story. They’re too perfect and heartbreaking and there’s nothing for me to say because you already have. Brava, my friend.

- I feel you but let me just say that I felt a little bit of pride with the last two lines Michael and Beth said. The whole “we’re asking you to marry our daughter���.

–

Onto the epilogue…

Honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to have a lot to say on this because this whole chapter is just so perfect to me. You couldn’t pay me to come up with a better ending than this… Everything just came so full circle, it’s beautiful. I can easily picture the epilogue being an end credit scene of the film where you think the hard parts are over and haynox is living an idyllic life out in Ireland, just for the ending seconds of the film to close out on the two kicking ass and being the badass partner in crime duo we know them to be. I love it, I love it, I love it.

- Yeeeeeeeeeees, that’s what I meant for it to be. End credits, wrapping up everything. And when it all looks nice and smooth, the fire starts to burn and our partner in crime duo start to be badass again!

“But you love and respect your wife so…” Ahhh!!! it’s so weird seeing them call each other that, but (if you couldn’t tell) I love it! It’s what these dummies deserve. Also, I have a feeling it might have gone over my head, but is the necklace metaphor about their love/Maddy not being able to slip away? Like the necklace is tying down the ring so it can’t do something stupid like, say, DROWN IN THE WATER? 😂

 - Huahahahahaha Maddy feels the same way, she’s also not used to the new term but they’ll get used to it. They have a lifetime to do so after all. As for the metaphor, it’s two things actually xD The first one you’re very close. I don’t know if you watched Jennifer’s Body but the only reason why Jennifer doesn’t die when Needy stabs her is because of their friendship necklace and when Needy rips it off, she dies. It’s like she’s tied to life by it. And the same can be said about Maddy and her necklace + ring. (it also means Cassie has Maddy by the throat which relates to their bedroom shenanigans but lets leave it at that ahahahah)

Also, the whole funeral scene was gold. From Cassie wanting to burn Horus alive and then realizing Hell will do that for her to Maddy being an idiot for considering leaving the car but allowing Cassie to have the control in confronting her father and finally ending her story with the Hayes. Ugh. Genius.

- Initially, I had planned for Cassie to set his car on fire and then drive away but as a I was writing, it sort of happened this way and I like it much better ahahah And we all know Maddy is an idiot but Cassie avenged her properly so it was all good.

Speaking of, you handled the time jumps so effortlessly and I could see you going back to certain events in your side stories- like Cassie helping Maddy through her fear of water, their first Christmas together as a couple, Maddy realizing that she was wrong before and that warm home she didn’t believe she could have again in Ireland was always possible with Cassie by her side… so many possibilities. (Also, I’d 100% be content with just playing them out in my head, so don’t feel obligated/overwhelmed to write them!)

- All of these have been added to my to-do list ahahahaha but I’m on vacation right now so unless you want to talk about certain parts of that before I start writing, we can. If not, starting February 22, I will HOPEFULLY make it rain again.

Okay, so the reasoning behind Maddy’s new name is perfect and everything I never knew I needed. And I totally see Maddy in you with the “…was more than what you thought you deserved. And more than you could ever thank them for.” bit. Newsflash, my friend, you and Maddy both deserve what this story has given you. I hope that one day you both can accept how wonderful you are and how much you deserve the praises you get on the world’s you create.

- All I can say to this message is thank you and I truly hope you’re right because in this moment? I can only vouch for Maddy when I say she deserves the world. Can’t say the same about myself. But I appreciate your words, all of them and I’m forever thankful for them. I hope you know that.

Weird coincidence, but I recently stumbled upon the song “Call Me” by Shinedown and have been kind of obsessed with it so when I found out that the pub and shop are called Sinners and Saints I was shooketh™ because that’s literally a line in the song… Anyways, I love the name of the buildings. I feel like that fits who they are so perfectly, you know? They are not one or the other, hot or cold, in or out, they’re always a perfect mix of both.

- I just heard that song and it’s preeeeeeeeetty cool and can actually fit Maddy, if you think about it. The names of the buildings actually came from the song that names the chapter because I feel it perfectly recaps the story. But yes, they’re a mix of both and isn’t that the best place to be?

And my god, we do not deserve Cassie. Her buying the shop? Painting the door green? Doing the research to find out the name of the pub that Maddy herself forgot? Having an auto shop be RIGHT there????? It’s fate. The red string theory. All the people and events they had to go through brings them right back where it started because that’s where they belong. It’s beautiful, so, so beautiful.

- When Cassie bought the shop, she asked for the history of it, previous owners and all that to get the information about it. And the auto shop was built from scratch because it wasn’t there. The red string theory always comes into play and especially here because, if you think about, they would’ve met at the pub even if Maddy’s left hadn’t changed. Think with me. Maddy would keep working at the pub, unknowing about the rest and one day Cassie and Michael enter to greet Horus and say their brewery is branching into Europe. It would’ve happened anyway.

I love that you showed Maddy calling Michael. She finally has a father that not only cares about her but is someone Maddy feels like she can go to and express herself to. And I love how you wrapped up her life in America. I can’t remember what chapter it was in, but I know you mentioned that even though Maddy does bad things, she always tries to make sure the innocents are spared so they don’t have to experience what she had to. So to see Neptune, the shop, and the rest of her employees being taken cared of instead of just forgotten after her “death” is perfect and such a Maddy thing to do. I’m thrilled you included that small bit.

- She could’ve called Beth but she wanted specific information only Michael could give. And yes, she finally has A Father. That’s her motto. That and the fact that it was never about the money. So she always paid her employees handsomely and if they needed help with a children tuition of something, she’d gladly pay for it. Knowing about that dependency, she would obviously leave them her car shop money if anything was to happen. Which she did.

I also love that haynox didn’t have to give up everything they wanted to be safe. In fact, they got everything they ever wanted- they’re married and in love, Maddy has her car shop she worked so hard for, Cassie has the brewery that she gets to build from the ground up, they’re both still involved in the crime business, and they both get to live in a place they consider to be “home.” You could not have written a more perfect ending.

- Everything they ever wanted is their, so long as they work for it. And they did. And now it’s time to enjoy every second of it. Together. 

You gave them paradise.

- And you gave me many reasons to smile. I’m beyond thankful for the day that you decided to follow my story and felt so............. compelled by it............... that you decided to reach out and overwhelm me time and time again. Thank you. So much. For everything. I hope you stick around for more and I hope you know how awesome and kind and giving you are :)

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 14

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5* Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13

As always, you can read the story thus far on A03  HERE

Chapter Summary

Sam and Faith try and make their way out of the firey building falling down around them and the mental aftermath.

Sam shielded his eyes against the flames that were licking at the corners of the room. He coughed as he edged around what was the remains of the stairs, now just a tall tower of fire and heat. Sam reached a hand out in front of him, finally feeling the cool dirt of the back wall against his hand. He patted the wall frantically, ducking lower as the flames made their way across the ceiling. Finally, he felt the seam of the dirt crusted door under his fingers.

    “Oh thank god,” He uttered in relief as he frantically began to scratch at the small door in the corner of the room.

"Faith, C'mon! There's a door!" He yelled, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the house going up around them. Unable to grip the door, Sam slammed his shoulder into it, the dirt covering the entrance falling to the ground.

"C'mon, move you, son of a bitch," He muttered under his breath as he drove his weight against the door again. This time, the wood shuddered and cracked. Sam threw himself against it with a yell one more time, and the door exploded, covering him with dirt, dust, and speckles of wood as he landed on the ground. The doorway led to a small passage no bigger than a walk-in closet. Laying on the ground, Sam watched as the smoke pushed across the ceiling, finding its escape between the small slats of wood that covered it. A storm cellar, complete with a long-forgotten storm door. It was a way out.

"Faith!" Sam called as he scrambled to his feet. He looked back; the flames had doubled in size and number, the heat bordering on unbearable. He heard nothing but the sound of the blaze around him. Sam headed frantically back into the basement, his eyes burning and red from the smoke.    

Faith sat against the back wall, still holding Remy, her face buried in his wild hair. Sam knelt by her side.

    “Faith, we gotta go, this house ain’t gonna last much longer,” Sam told her.

    “We can’t leave him,” She said in a muffled, watery voice from between the locks of hair.

"He's gone, Faith. He's gone, and we're gonna be next if we don't move!" Sam urged, his voice growing louder over the noise of the snapping wood.

    “We can’t leave him, Sam! We can’t leave him!” She cried. A loud crash interrupted her pleas as the large iron stove from the kitchen above crashed through the ceiling. Sam threw himself over Faith, shielding her from the flying embers and debris. He knew that the house didn’t have much longer. Sam sat up and grabbed Faith roughly by the shoulders.

"Look! We lost the Bible, we lost the note, and we lost Rem! I’m not losing you too!" He yelled, his eyes frustrated and pleading her to go with him.

    Faith let go of Remy, letting his lifeless body slump back against the barrels. Without a word, Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her up. The fire overhead blazed out of control as it ate away at the rest of the house. Keeping crouched, he led her back and through the small opening to the cellar door. Faith doubled over, a gagging cough grabbing her as the air in her lungs was replaced with thick smoke. Sam pushed on the hinged doors above their heads. He felt the doors give a little under pressure.

"Help me push this," He said quickly. The flames had begun to make their way into their little alcove, and the oxygen was almost gone. Sam and Faith braced their arms and with a quick 3-2-1 from Sam, pushed against the old doors with all their strength. The doors opened, and the hinges screamed in protest. Smoke billowed out of the opening as Sam and Faith climbed up and through the doors, scampering into the woods that backed up to the house.

Faith leaned against a tree, gasping for fresh air. Sam turned and saw what was once the home of Mary Edwards now a blazing inferno in the middle of the woods, the flames already trying to jump to neighboring trees. The second story imploded as Sam grabbed Faith’s hand and led her back through the forest and down the path.

    Faith stared out the windshield of the SUV as Sam drove down the rural highway, the car quiet except for the noise of the road under the turning wheels. Faith sat unblinking, almost catatonic. Her right cheek was swollen, her clothes torn from falling and her bottom lip had managed to stop bleeding finally. Sam wasn't in much better shape. His nose was slightly swollen and no longer bleeding. A gash began to crust over the end of his eyebrow, and his knuckles were a bloody mess. Both of them were covered with a layer of dirt and smoky soot that clung to their sweaty skin.

Sam drove as quickly as he could without drawing unwanted attention to the two of them, anxious to get out of Springfield, anxious to get out of Illinois altogether.

    “Let me have your phone,” He asked her quietly.

    Wordlessly, she pulled the burner phone from the inner pocket of her jacket and handed it to him. Never taking his eyes off the road, Sam dialed 911.

"I want to report a fire. It looks like that big patch of forest off route 92 south of downtown is on fire, there's a ton of smoke. Tell them to get there quick," Sam said in a monotone voice before hitting END. He took the phone in both hands, cracked it in half and chucked it out the window onto the road.

    Sam was careful to keep watch of Faith out of the corner of his eye as he drove. After the ordeal in the basement, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Catatonic is better than hysterical I guess, he thought. After a half hour of silence, his worry subsided a bit, figuring that Faith was processing everything in her own way, which was by herself, in her head, alone. He understood that was how he dealt with things too. Prison had a tendency to make oneself their own counselor.

    Faith sat in the passenger seat, the only move she had made in the last hour was to switch from staring blankly out the window to staring blankly at her hands. They were filthy and turned from tacky to stiff as the blood that covered them dried. The little bits of wood that stuck to her skin held on by the sticky drying blood made her think about those mosquitoes caught in the tree sap in Jurassic Park.

    As she stared at her hands, her brain slowly turning back on, she noticed something odd; Her hand had grown a small extra finger, one that seemed to have no bones to give it shape. She blinked a couple of times, the supposed extra finger coming into focus. On the floormat of the car, just beneath her hands, lay a red gummy worm; An escapee from Remy's never-ending pouch supply.

Remy, oh god, Remy.

    The events flew through her brain, the solace of its emptiness gone, instead filled with the blood and horror that had just happened.

Faith's stomach began to churn quickly, the mechanics in her belly throwing the gears in reverse. She breathed deeply through her nose, her hand going to her stomach.

"Pull over," Faith said suddenly.

    “What?” Sam asked, surprised to hear anything from Faith.

    “Curb it!” She loudly demanded, one trembling hand at her mouth, the other frantically unclipping her seatbelt.

    Sam quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road. Faith had the door open before Sam had the car in park and took off like a shot through the field of decapitated corn stalks in front of her. Sam got out of the car and limped after her, the one knee still smarting from the kick from Arthur gave it earlier. He saw Faith finally skid to a stop, doubled over. Sam slowed his pace when he heard the faint retching sounds in front of him.

Faith stood back up, the heaving finally subsided. She took a couple of wobbly sidesteps, wiping her mouth with the dirty sleeve of her jacket, looking like an Irish drunk in the St. Paddy's Day parade. Serendipitously, nature had placed a small boulder in the field. She plopped down hard, resting her head in her hands.

Sam walked up beside Faith. He went to put a comforting hand on her shoulder and stopped himself, thinking better of it. In their time together, Sam had caught on to the fact that Faith did not like to be touched. Instead, he sat down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees, the lowering sun casting them in a golden tone.

    “I killed a guy,” Faith said in a small voice, her head still in her hands.

    “You did what you had to do.”

    “I killed him. I stabbed him with a piece of glass. I felt his blood on my hands; this is his blood on my hands," She said shakily as she dropped her bloodstained hands out in front of her.

    “Look at me,” He asked her, gently turning her shoulder towards him so he could look at her. Her eyes were large with fear and tear-filled.

    “He was trying to kill us. Once he killed me, he would have gone after you. You did what you had to do,” He explained as gentle as he could and still get his point across.

    “I killed a guy and Remy’s dead. Remy’s dead,” Faith said as she dropped her head and the tears started to spill down her bruising face.

    Sam swallowed a tight lump in his throat, waiting for her to place the blame on him.

"He's dead, and we left him there in that burning building! What about his parents? His family?" She sputtered, crying. Sam stayed silent, bracing himself to be blamed but still knowing that all of this was better out than in.

    “That asshole killed him. He shot a 17-year old boy,” She sniffled.

    “I shouldn’t have let him come,” Sam said guiltily.

    “No, no. Don’t go there. The blame is on Bixby. It’s all that Bixby asshole and his fucking boss, not you. So, you quit that shit,” Faith spit with anger through her tears.

    Faith’s burst of angry logic silenced Sam. He expected her to cast nothing but blame in his direction. Assorted accusing statements like, ‘Why didn’t you do this, why did you let him do that, You could have stopped him.’ That lingering feeling of inferiority in him had always reared its ugly head in big situations like this. Faith blamed Arthur Bixby, blamed Jasper Nox, but she didn't blame him. The heavy guilt in his heart wasn't gone, but Faith had made it lighter, and for that, at that moment Sam knew he kind of loved her.

    “He was just a kid. He was just a kid, Sam! He was just starting out and he was gonna go so far, so far and now he's gone. He’s gone,” She sobbed into her hands, her tears flowing freely.

Sam's heart ached for Remy, and it ached for Faith. He wanted to ease the burden on her, make her feel at least a little better like she had done for him.

    He reached his arm behind her and gently patted her on the back, rubbing her back lightly.

    Faith turned towards Sam and put her arms around him, taking him by surprise. For the first time in months, she wanted to be touched, wanted to be comforted. She buried her head in the shoulder of his coat, her arms around his chest. He gingerly rested his face on the crown of her head as he rubbed her back and held her as she cried.

    “I’m tired of people dying,” She said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his jacket and the tears in her voice.

    “I know,” He muttered gently into Faith’s hair.

    Faith sat and cried while Sam held her in a strange field by the side of the road in Illinois as the sun went down.

Despite Arthur Bixby, despite Jasper Nox, despite everything, at that moment Faith felt safe.

[toxinfox]

There goes the phone again. Both lines, ringing at the same time, for the fourteenth time in the last half-hour. You snag the phone and cradle it against between your jaw and shoulder, answering with the same faux-chipper greeting sound byte you’ve used a hundred times today (you’re not sure if that’s an exaggeration), and ask them to please hold, hitting the ‘hold’ button before they have a chance to argue. You do the same with the second line, all while running the credit card of the cranky boomer in front of you, who seems irritated that you’re daring to answer the phone while serving him. 

You’d get in trouble with your manager if you DIDN’T answer the phone, but you might also get in trouble with your manager if you DO answer the phone while helping someone, so you decide to risk it anyway. And anyway, that damned manager is nowhere to be found, and sure as hell isn’t going to answer the phone himself, regardless. 

Over the speakers, ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ starts playing again. A little part of your soul shrivels up, but you have a line out the door, so does your coworker, and all you can do is grit your teeth, fake smile, and keep going.

Your customer challenges you about his total. Wasn’t that thing-a-ma-jig on sale? No, sir, that sale starts next week. Can’t you give me the sale price right now? No, sir. Well that’s not very good customer service. And you have terrible reading comprehension, you think but don’t say to him. There are signs everywhere about the sale next week, with the dates printed large. 

You don’t even bother offering him the store credit card sales pitch. You’re supposed to. It’s your job. You get ‘talked to’ when you don’t. But you just can’t deal with it right now. Customers hate the sales pitch as much as you do. Not that management will ever get that through their useless heads.

His credit card processes, and the printer spits out a receipt. Thank god, you think, I can get this grouchy man, who doesn’t think the rules apply to him, out of the store. 

The receipt printer makes a noise and spits out half of a receipt. You narrowly avoid swearing-- it’s run out of paper. Why didn’t it show any pink to tell you it was running out?? 

Next to you, the phone is blinking and beeping, reminding you that you have customers on hold. You dive for the box somewhere under the counter that’s full of replacement receipt paper rolls. Behind the overflowing trash can you haven’t had a chance to empty yet. Next to the haphazard stacks of holiday-printed bags that you haven’t had a chance to straighten yet. Next to the six orders that need to be wrapped and shipped before the UPS guy gets here in an hour. 

Hell will freeze over before you or your coworker get to those orders. 

You find the receipt paper, and swap out the empty roll, quietly thanking God for whoever invented the receipt printer and made them so easy to change quickly. They must’ve worked in retail themselves once. They must know the chaos. They probably STILL have PTSD about it. 

You reprint the receipt, the grouchy boomer signs and grumbles as you bag his stuff and send him on his way. 

Next to you, the phone beeps again. Two customers, still on hold. Your next customer in line steps forward. 

“Hi, I want to have these wine glasses gift wrapped and shipped to Tennessee!”

The wine glasses aren’t part of a set that come in a nice, pre-packaged box. Oh no, that would be too easy. You’re going to have to wrap them all individually, find a box to put them in, gift wrap the box, make an artful shipping label so it looks ‘festive’, and pray they get to their destination in one piece. 

You’ll get complaints if they don’t, even though you don’t control what happens to the box the moment it leaves the store. 

You say ‘Sure, we can do that’, as if her request isn’t the least bit inconvenient. Processing her order isn’t quick or easy either. Pull open the shipping window. Put in addresses. Have her spell that street name. Was that a D or a G? You can’t hear her, “Run Run Rudolph” is playing over the speakers for the 47th time today. Open another window. Figure the shipping costs and the taxes to ship to Tennessee. Behind her, eight more people roll their eyes and shift their weight from leg to leg. 

Beside you, the phone beeps again. You glance over. One of the lines has gone dark. Someone has hung up. Dammit. They might complain about that. 

You finish with the wine glass lady, and set her purchase aside with a copy of her receipt on the back counter, next to twelve other orders that need to be shipped out (not counting the six below your counter, of course). You pick up the remaining phone line, hoping to get to them before they, too, hang up in frustration. You beckon the next person in line forward, hoping they have a simple purchase so that you can multi-task both at once. 

Your customer this time is a kid your age, maybe early twenties. They have a pair of shoes in a box. They nod as you answer the phone, and smile. You breathe a silent thank-you for this person. They *get* it. You can tell. 

You answer the phone. The cranky lady -- who has been on hold for five minutes, listening to your obnoxious corporate Christmas jingles and sales pitches, so you don’t blame her for being a little salty-- wants you to check and see if you have that Super Popular Item you sold out of before 10 am. “I’m sorry, ma���am, we’re out of that thing.”

“Couldn’t you check the back just to be sure?”

There are none in The Back. You know that. The Back is a hive of chaos. Some shelves are entirely barren, others are a seething mess of obnoxious Christmas tchotchkes that no one wants. You know the Super Popular Item is not among them. You’ve been sent back to check six times today. 

“Sure, I’ll check. Lemme put you on hold again real quick,” you say, putting her on hold. You aren’t going to check The Back, but she has no way of knowing that. Putting her on hold again is merely a blessed opportunity to focus your attention on the 20-something in front of you, who is holding out cash. 

“Thanks so much for your patience,” you say. You genuinely mean it. You make change and bag their shoes as fast as you can. Even take 2 seconds to draw a smiley on their receipt. God bless patient, no-fuss customers.  

20-something smiles. “No problem. Take your time.”

You *wish* you could take your time. You also wish that the endless, repeating loop of 2nd-string, super-obnoxious, transparently commercial Christmas songs would stop playing over the speakers (oh god, not ‘Santa Baby’ AGAIN...), and that your back, feet, and neck would all stop screaming in pain. 

Two more people join the end of your queue. You look over to your coworker at the other register, who is equally swamped. You exchange a familiar wince, and continue on. 

Customers complain. Try to weasel expired coupons or sales that aren’t on yet. The phone continues to ring off the hook. Your coworker runs out of receipt tape. You toss them a roll. You run out of medium-sized bags, and no one can take a break to get more. 

Breaks. Haha. You theoretically have a break in half an hour. It might as well be next year. You look at the time on your register. It’s been ten minutes. It feels like an hour. And once you DO get your break (it will be at least twenty minutes late), that paltry 15 minutes will seem like 30 seconds. 15 minutes isn’t enough to undo this sort of stress. 

On another aisle, you hear something go CRASH! You pause to look-- someone’s damned kids have pulled a display down. Their parent seems oblivious on another aisle. You have ten people in your line. Your coworker has eleven. You sigh, apologize to the grumpy lady in the reindeer sweater, and pick up the phone to page the manager (whom you haven’t seen in an hour, damn him). But first you have to put another person on hold. 

“Steve to the floor, some kid tipped over the cookie jar display...”

Another coworker-- the seasonal hire, not the manager-- appears from another part of the store with a broom. You weren’t aware he was even hear, but judging by how exhausted and sweaty he is, he’s been just as busy as you. He deals with the tipped-over display, the crying kids, and their angry mother, who doesn’t appreciate being called out for not watching her yard apes. You praise God that he’s dealing with that situation and not you. He doesn’t get paid enough. None of you do. You turn back to the grumpy woman in the reindeer sweater. You ask if she found everything okay. 

“NO!” She growls. “This store is a mess, and NOBODY helped me find the THING.”

Gee, I wonder why that is, you think but don’t say, hoping the sarcasm doesn’t bleed through your pores. It’s not as though we’re all horribly busy and understaffed... 

“I’m sorry about that, we’re sort of swamped at the moment. It gets pretty busy here around the holidays...”

“CHRISTMAS,” she snaps. “It’s CHRISTMAS. Not this PC ‘holidays’ crap.”

Hooooboy, you’re short-circuiting THAT conversation as quickly as possible. “Well, would you like me to help you find Thing?” you ask her, ignoring her statement. “I’m fairly sure we still have a few...”

“No, I just want to get out of here. Just these.” She throws a fist full of cheap ornaments and other items on the counter, along with her credit card. You process her order as quickly as possible, hands shaking, just praying she doesn’t kick up a fuss right in line. You hand her her bag and receipt. She snatches them from you and huffs, “And you could SMILE, too, you know. Merry Christmas.”

She storms off, and you shake your head. The phone next to you is beeping again. That woman you put on hold Forever Ago, and the other line you had to put on hold in order to page the manager. Who is still nowhere to be found, of course. 

Another gentleman steps to the front of the line. He’s older, his hair and beard are white. He greets you with a ‘Ho Ho Ho!’ and expects you to call him ‘Santa’. On slow day, he’d be charming. But ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’ is playing again, and this is not a slow day. Wannabe-Santa isn’t rude or demanding or cranky, but his blissful enjoyment of the season is just as annoying. He pays for his purchase, gives you a mini candy cane, and bids you ‘Merry Christmas’ as well. And with a twinkle in his eye, he adds, “I just love this time of year!’

You are fairly sure this man is the actual Devil, come to torment you. You watch him leave, quietly seething. 

You have three more hours in your shift. You’re fairly sure you won’t see your manager once. You will snag your break in between crushing waves of cranky, impatient, entitled, reading-averse customers-- and you probably won’t get the whole break, either. You’ll duck into the back, into the messy, cramped ‘break room’ to eat your granola bar and try to lose yourself checking your text messages for a few minutes. 

Your back hurts.

Your feet hurt.

Your neck hurts.

Your uniform shirt has been chafing your armpits all day. 

You are being paid minimum wage for this back-breaking, high-stress, thankless, mocked and derided labor. 

You are mentally, physically, and emotionally tapped by the time you clock out and start trudging six blocks back to the train. You never did wrap and ship those orders. It’s raining, and getting dark. You’re freezing. And worst of all, you have to be back here in eight hours to do it all again tomorrow. It will take you at least an hour to get home.

You pass a homeless person on the way. You give them a spare granola bar and what change you have in your pockets that you don’t need for the train. It’s the least you can do for someone having a worse Christmas season than you, and if you lost your job (your awful, awful job), it’d be a short jump to being homeless yourself. He nods, thanks you, and offers you a ‘God Bless’. Not ‘Merry Christmas’. 

Like he knows that Christmas isn’t merry for everyone. 

You wish, you WISH... that more people understood that. That when you say ‘Actually... I work in retail. I hate Christmas’, that people wouldn’t react in horror and gasp, “You HATE Christmas?? You Scrooge! How can you hate Christmas?!?” 

You know if they traded places with you, even for a week, they’d understand. 

***

Shout-out to all retail workers this season, who are already cringing at the incoming onslaught of the Christmas industrial machine... I feel ya. Take care as best you can, thank those rare low-demand customers whenever they pop up, and give the solidarity nod to any cashiers in the stores you visit.

To the folks who have never worked in retail, or those who genuinely don’t understand how someone could hate Christmas... Read this, and maybe try to understand. 

[winterbaby89]

As Destiny Has Its Eyes on You Chapter 13/?

Summary:

Princess Emma Swan of Misthaven has been prophesied as the Savior since before her birth. Now with the help of a Lieutenant from her past she is going to take her destiny into her own hands, to defeat the Evil Queen.

A/N:

This story is inspired by ’Destiny has its eyes on you’ by the lovely @seriouslyhooked (EmilyBea on FF), my chapters 1-4 are based on her chapters 1&2 (with her blessing).

@ilovemesomekillianjones has graciously agreed to be my beta on this entire project, her works can also be found on: AO3, and FF.

This story is rated ‘M’.

AO3  FF.net  Prologue/Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 12

Chapter 13

A Week Later

With Arendelle in sight, Killian is needed at the helm. Emma opts to stay in the cabin, to stay out of sight and rest. Still a half hour from shore, she hears a knock on the door. Curious who it could be, because Killian would have just walked in, she gets up to answer it, finding Pip on the other side.

“Afternoon Mistress, apologies for bothering you here, but I haven’t seen you on deck today, and I’d like to ask a favor, if I may.”

Emma moves to the side of the door, and gestures for him to enter. “Certainly Pip, please come in. What can I help you with?” Emma can tell that Pip has imprinted off Killian, because he has adopted his signature nervous tick. She smiles to herself as she moves to sit back down on the window seat, Pip following closely behind.

“Well, I was hoping to ask for your help… to write a letter to Miss Melanie.” Before Emma can say a word, Pip continues on, “You see, when I was growing up, there was never anyone around who took the time to teach me anything. That is before the Captain took me on, of course. And out here on a ship, well writing was never a high priority.”

Emma reaches out a comforting hand to Pip’s shoulder to stop his rambling, and with a smile on her face she agrees to write out what he wishes to say to Miss Melanie. She grabs a pen and parchment, then proceeds to draft what Pip dictates, all the while he’s blushing profusely. As Emma is sealing up the letter, Killian comes in to let her know that they have docked, and they have the all clear to disembark.

At Killian’s words Emma grabs her cloak, she fastens it at her throat and pulls up her hood so as not to attract any unwanted attention during the trek to the castle. As they are leaving the comfort of the ship, Killian wraps one of his arms around her protectively, keeping her close as they traverse the busy coastal town to head towards the castle.

They only walk for a short time before the ice like castle looms ahead of them. It is light in color but intense with the many dagger sharp icicle shaped crenelations that adorn the ancient palace.

“We’re here,” Emma tells Killian. “The tome I seek is located in the Kingdom of Arendelle’s archives.”

“Emma! Emma, is that you?” an overly chipper voice asks. A voice Emma would recognize anywhere.

“Anna! How are you?” Emma asks as the redhead barrels into her wrapping her in a fierce hug.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here! Elsa will be so excited! Why didn’t you tell us you were coming, we would’ve had a celebration!” Anna jabbers.

“Well that would be one of the reasons I didn’t tell you,” Emma deadpans.

“Party pooper,” Anna pouts. She notices Killian at that moment, and her brilliant smile is back in place and she is rapid firing questions at Emma once more.

“Anna… Anna,” Emma says a little louder, trying to speak over her excitable friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Anna says before taking two deep breaths and closing her eyes for a moment.

“What is she doing, love?” Killian asks Emma. This girl is positively loony, he thinks.

“She is trying to focus herself, so she can calm down, and slow down,” Anna answers for Emma, narrowing her eyes at Killian’s scrutiny.

“Apologies, lass, no offense meant,” Killian tells her genuinely.

Anna smiles again and shoves her hand in Killian’s direction. “I’m Anna. Emma and I have been friends since we were children. I tend to get excited, and you can multiply that by a thousand when I see someone special, someone I haven’t seen in several years.”

Killian gently takes Lady Anna’s hand, and is surprised at her firm grasp and strong handshake. This is no ordinary lass, he thinks, although being a friend of Emma’s, why would she be.  

“A pleasure to meet you milady, Killian Jones at your service,” he tells her while sketching a bow.

Emma has been watching their exchange, marveling at Anna’s exuberance, and Killian’s ability to charm anyone.

Anna giggles like a young girl despite just having shaken his hand like a soldier. “Wait! The Killian Jones? The Killian Jones that Emma mooned over and yearned for, for like ever?”

Rolling her eyes, Emma realizes that she is joining the conversation just a moment too late. Killian will surely be boasting later about this tidbit that Anna has let slip. “Anna! Seriously?” Emma chastises her friend.

“Sorry,” Anna says, realizing just how embarrassing her statement might be for Emma, especially right in front of her gentleman friend.

Emma softens, then links her arm through Anna’s while reaching her left hand toward Killian. “Let’s go see Elsa?”

“Oh, my, I forgot! I was on my way to see Kristoff. Well, I suppose I can take you to see Elsa, then go and see him, and then I’ll come back and-”

“Ok,” Emma cuts her off, “that sounds wonderful.” She starts to pull Anna toward the castle, and tugs on Killian’s hand to follow them.

Anna peers around Emma to see her holding Killian’s hand, then looks back to Emma and narrows her eyes. “So, just how well do you two know each other?” Anna whispers.

Killian chuckles on the other side of Emma because Anna whispers much the same way she does everything else… overzealously.

“Subtle, Anna,” Emma laughs. She looks to Killian with a questioning eyebrow.

“Of course, my love,” he tells Emma, knowing what she is silently asking. “I would shout it from every rooftop, and will do so if given the chance.” He brings their joined hands to his lips and places a kiss just above her ring.

Anna gasps when she sees the ring on Emma’s finger. “Emma!” she squeals.

Emma can tell Anna is having a hard time not jumping up and down, and takes pity on the girl, unlinking their arms, and gesturing with a lazy wave of her hand. “Go ahead.” That is all she has to say and Anna is literally jumping up and down in a circle with her hands clasped together as if rejoicing.

Anna stops as suddenly as she started, “Okay, it’s out of my system.” Relinking her arm with Emma’s the group starts toward the palace again. Passing the guards unscathed because of Anna’s presence, they make good time to the family’s private library where Anna said they would find Elsa. As soon as the grand doors have been closed behind them Anna calls out in a sing-songy chirp, “Elsa! You’re never going to believe who I found outside.”

“What are you talking abou-” Elsa cuts off at the sight of Emma, as she rounds the end of the bookshelf she had been perusing. Letting out a shriek that would make a banshee proud, Elsa is across the room and hugging Emma in the blink of an eye. “Oh my god, Emma! What are you doing here? We got a letter a few weeks back from your parents, asking if we’d seen you. You have them worried sick. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Emma disentangles herself from Elsa’s vice like hug. She tries to get this sister to focus, and stop the questions, just like she had with Anna. “Elsa. Elsa. ELS!”

“What?”

“Let a girl breathe would you?”

“Oh! Sorry. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you, I’ve missed my best friend. And since your parents’ letter, I’ve been worried about you too.” Elsa finally seems to realize that Killian is there too. “Who’s this then?” Elsa asks quirking a curious brow in his direction.

“Elsa, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my best friend Queen Elsa.” Emma gives Elsa a pointed look, screaming, yes THAT Killian, with hope that Elsa would understand, and not blurt out anything embarrassing like Anna already had.

“Oh!” Elsa gives Killian an appraising look as he extends his hand for her to shake.

Giving Emma a look of approval, as she addresses Killian, she shakes his proffered hand. “Well, this is an unexpected turn of events, within unexpected circumstances, but it is a pleasure to finally put a face to the name. Welcome to Arendelle, Killian. Are you playing protector for our dear Emma?”

“Thank you Queen Elsa, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance as well. And, it’s... something like that, your majesty.”

“Call me Elsa, please, I get enough of ‘your majesty’, and ‘your highness’ from everyone else.”

Anna is still standing next to Emma, bouncing on the heels of her feet, when she pipes up, “Emma, tell her. Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. You gotta tell her, she’s going to want to know. Tell her.”

Elsa has a rather quizzical and slightly concerned expression on her face as she looks back and forth between the three people standing in front of her.

“What’s going on Emma? What is Anna practically bursting at the seams about now?” Emma tamps down her frustration at the well meaning, but overexcited princess, and lets out an exasperated sigh before reaching for Elsa’s hand, addressing her oldest friend.

“Well, Els, it is kinda complicated… Killian vowed to help me and protect me when I approached him about accompanying me on my quest. He also vowed so much more when we became husband and wife.” There is silence as Elsa processes what her dearest and oldest friend has just told her.

“Married? My best friend got married, and didn’t invite me?”

Emma reacts immediately wanting to smooth away the hurt in her friend’s voice. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you there Els, we were on Killian’s ship, in the middle of the ocean, my parents don’t even know. But we are hoping that once mom and dad find out they will be happy, and you know mom will make us do a “proper” royal wedding, and I want you there for that.”

“I guess I can understand that Em, but I swear if you get married again and I don’t get an invite, you are going to forget what summer is.”

Emma laughs at her friend’s icy threat that literally holds no heat. “That’s fair, but unnecessary Els, I wouldn’t dream of getting married without you there.” Emma sends a reassuring smile over her shoulder to Killian before continuing. “But, the main reason I’m here is because I need access to the archives. I need the Tome of Displacement.”

“What is this quest you’re pursuing Em? Anything you need and it is yours, you know that,” Elsa tells her friend. “Come, let me take you to the archives.” Killian catches Emma’s arm as she turns to follow Elsa to the archives, whispering low so only Emma can hear him.

“Will you be okay here with your friends for a while my love? I have some business I need to attend to, before we depart.”

“Oh.” Emma is slightly crestfallen that Killian needs to leave, but grateful for the time she’ll have with her best friend. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, I’ll have Elsa here with me. Go do what you need to do, and meet me back here?”

“Yes, Killian. I will make sure no harm comes to her while you’re away, and I insist the two of you stay as my guests for the evening as well. Queen’s orders.” Elsa just smirks at Killian’s blank stare in response to her demand that they stay the night.

“Well I should be going, Kristoff is probably wondering where I am. I’ll be back in time for dinner, I’ll even bring Kristoff with me.” Anna waves as she walks out the doors, still talking.

Emma wraps Killian in a hug whispering how much she loves him into his neck before pulling back to give him a scorching kiss, only breaking apart when they hear a slightly uncomfortable cough come from Elsa.

“I love you Emma, more than I can express. I shall return before dinner is served. I know you’ll find the tome you are searching for.” He leans back in and gives Emma a much more chaste kiss before heading towards the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you Elsa, and thank you for the gracious invite into your home for the evening.”

“I assure you, it is the least I can do for my best friend and her new husband. We’ll see you at dinner Killian.” With Elsa’s words, Killian exits the library.

Once the door has shut behind Killian, Elsa walks back to Emma looping her arm through Emma’s and giving her a bemused look before speaking what is on her mind. “So, I haven’t heard word one from you in a few months, and here you are in my home, on some secret mission, with a husband in tow… you know you’re going to have to spill, right?”

“I know Els, how about I fill you in on what I can, on our walk to the archives?”

“I think I can deal with that princess. So spill.”

Emma fills Elsa in on all the pertinent details that she can, leaving out the part about the baby, wanting to discuss it with Killian before informing anyone else, even Anna and Elsa. They spend the next few hours searching through the thousands of volumes lining the shelves, as well as admiring the sheer amount of magical knowledge and artifacts within the cavernous room. After looking through many a wondrous book on types of magic she hadn’t even been aware existed, Emma eventually finds the Tome of Displacement.

The two friends catch up on everything they’ve missed out on in each others’ lives that were just too complicated to write out in their letters to each other. When they realize it is almost time for dinner to be served they decide to head back up to the family dining room to await everyone’s return. After another twenty minutes of sitting and chatting Anna and Kristoff arrive and join Emma and Elsa. As the servants start bringing out the dishes of heavenly smelling food, Emma starts to seriously worry that Killian has not made it back to the castle yet. Mentioning this concern to Elsa, she can tell that her friend isn’t as concerned as she is, but promises Emma that if he has not made his appearance by the time their meal is finished she will have some of the royal guards go out in search of him, and station a couple of men to watch over the Jolly Roger.

Emma doesn’t eat much, only picking at her food as her uneasiness eats away at her and her appetite. By the conclusion of their meal, Emma’s nerves are shot. Elsa does as promised dispatching a few regiments of men to scour the city top to bottom. Anna ushers Emma off to her suite for the evening, insisting she needs her rest, and promises to notify her immediately if they receive any news. Knowing when she is being pacified Emma doesn’t try putting up any more of a fight, especially since her first insistence of searching for him herself fell upon deaf ears. She also realizes that she needs to take care of herself for their baby’s sake. She resigns herself to getting ready for bed, and crawling into the much too large bed, she wonders if sleep will even come without Killian’s arms to hold her safely.

The nightmares return.

◊◊◊

Chapter Fourteen

Tagging some lovelies to enjoy: @kmomof4, @seriouslyhooked, @laschatzi, @hollyethecurious, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @flslp87, @jennjenn615, @ultraluckycatnd, @xhookswenchx

[tasmanienerin]

#I mean he found a inexplicable round eye lego for the top of his tower #what was I supposed to do #NOT teach him the word panopticon? #other parent's slow blink as they processed that statement: 10/10 #and then I had to re-iterate the lesson on sharing #...sharing the panopticon 

Other child: *reaches for legos at the library’s play table*

Toddler: NO DO NOT DESTROY MY PANOPTICON

[bayofalgecirascranes]

#I mean he found a inexplicable round eye lego for the top of his tower#what was I supposed to do#NOT teach him the word panopticon?#other parent's slow blink as they processed that statement: 10/10#and then I had to re-iterate the lesson on sharing#...sharing the panopticon#this post brought to you by The Magnus Archives#statement recorded live June 6th 2023#statement ends

Other child: *reaches for legos at the library’s play table*

Toddler: NO DO NOT DESTROY MY PANOPTICON